


The World Not Reeling

by lmPerrin



Series: All Imperfect Things [1]
Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Angry Sex, Canon Bisexual Character, Clothed Sex, Confrontation, Confusion, Drunkenness, F/F, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, Lesbian Sex, Outdoor Sex, Power Play, Rubbing, hot and bothered
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-02-04 14:30:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 99,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1782397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmPerrin/pseuds/lmPerrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kahlan and Cara are forced to appreciate just how blurred the line between love and hate can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rattling the Cage

The first time it happened, Kahlan had been trying to prove a point.

Stupid, really, but then, that was exactly what Cara had said to them to get Kahlan all worked up in the first place:  _You're all idiots, this will never work, if you're so eager to die then I can find a bunch of nightshade and you can die right here. You won't have to wear yourself out walking. I'm going to bathe, let me know when you come up with a plan that's not completely stupid._

It was the way she'd said  _completely_  that ignited Kahlan's ire. Dripping with malice and hot with conviction, as if Kahlan and Richard and Zedd were literally the most mentally challenged people she could have ever found herself traveling with. And, yes, Kahlan's pride was a little hurt too. She wasn't an idiot. Yes, their plan for convincing the people of D'Hara to abandon the deep set ways of decades of Rahl rule was flawed. Yes, it probably wouldn't work. But at least they'd tried to come up with a solution instead of contributing nothing but negativity. 

"She could be a little more helpful," Kahlan said.

"Who?" Richard was rummaging in his pack, searching for the flint and tinder to start a fire. "Cara?"

"Yes, Cara. Who else?"

Richard shrugged. "Cara's not helpful if she can avoid it."

"I noticed."

They'd been traveling together for almost a fortnight. Of course Kahlan had noticed. She'd have to be blind not to notice the way Cara scowled whenever she was asked to collect firewood or rolled her eyes whenever Kahlan and Zedd attempted to have a conversation with her. The only person she tolerated was Richard, and even that was done with an air of aloof deferment, like she was humoring the authority he held over her. Cara obviously did not want to be there. Why she and Richard insisted on her presence was beyond Kahlan. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that Kahlan was more than a little wary of. 

"I just think she could be a little more respectful."

Richard paused his search. "I told her not to defer to me as the Lord Rahl. I asked her to voice her opinions. I can't--"

Kahlan cut him off with an irritated wave of her hand. "I know. You told me. You want her to think for herself. All I want is for her to be a little more polite, Richard."

A little smile cut across Richard's lips, as if he was witnessing the temper tantrum of an illogical two year old. It made Kahlan's insides twist with irritation.

"You can tell her as much, but I doubt she'll listen."

"Fine." Kahlan stood--Richard's smile had sealed it. Cara was not immune to acts of basic human decency, and Kahlan was going to prove it. "I'm going to go tell her. Wish me luck."

She didn't try to keep the sarcasm from her voice, and if Richard noticed he gave no indication. He began striking the flint on a rock, unconcerned with Kahlan's anger.

"Don't confess her," he called over his shoulder.

She knew it was a joke, but it infuriated Kahlan all the more as she stalked after Cara.  Despite the attempts at levity, the amount of time Richard spent worrying about if she was going to confess someone indicated he wasn't as confident in her ability to control the magic as he said he was. Always trying to calm her down, as if she was completely ruled by her emotions and incapable of feeling without losing control. She wasn't a child. She knew how to separate her emotion from her power. Just because Richard's newly found  _han_  was unpredictable didn't mean Kahlan was just as volatile. It was a small thing that she'd ignored at first because she loved him, but now it was beginning to irritate her. Spirits knew he didn't panic whenever Zedd got upset.

Kahlan snorted, imagining Richard clutching Zedd to his chest, rocking back and forth, petting Zedd's long grey hair reassuringly the way he did to Kahlan. He treated her like a fragile thing to be protected. That's how he'd always treated her, and until recently it hadn't bothered her. Maybe she was tired. Maybe they were spending too much time together under constant stress, that little things like that stressed her out. 

She heard the faint whisper of the spring bubbling and clawed her way through the foliage blocking it from view. She didn't bother with stealth. Cara was infuriating but that didn't mean Kahlan didn't respect her abilities. She'd be heard no matter how carefully she crept. 

Cara was standing at the edge of the spring, back to Kahlan, upper body bare save for a dark brown strapless breast band around her chest. Her shoulders were thrown back aggressively, the shorn edges of her blonde hair barely reaching the tops of her shoulder blades. 

"Come to warn me to behave?"

Kahlan stopped. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not Richard."

"Are you telling me that so that I know I don't have to listen to what you're about to say, or because you think I couldn't tell it was you walking through the woods?"

She said it with such casual indifference that Kahlan felt a tic jump in the middle of her forehead.

 

"It wouldn't kill you," Kahlan said through gritted teeth, "to show a little common courtesy."

Cara's tanned shoulders rose and fell once. "Is that it?"

It was very obvious from Cara’s tone that she found Kahlan’s complaints less than worthy of her attention. Kahlan couldn’t clench her fists any tighter. She was so angry, almost irrationally so, that if she’d had the capacity to step back and examine her reaction she’d be infinitely embarrassed. As it stood, though, she’d settle for smacking Cara under the pretense of slapping some manners into her. 

“No, that’s not all,” Kahlan found herself saying. She didn’t have a speech planned, which meant at some point her words would probably fall off in coherency, but she was too worked up to stop. “You are a _bitch_ , Cara.”

She watched the muscles in Cara’s back tighten, and Kahlan felt a trill of euphoria at the prospect of surprising the unflappable Mord-Sith.

“A horrible, rude, ungrateful, bitch.” Kahlan was breathing hard. Under her anger was a schoolgirl urge to run before the bully decided to retaliate, but she stood her ground, determined to get her point across.

Slowly, Cara finally turned to face Kahlan. It had been twelve days since they'd found Cara, after she'd been beaten and disowned by her fellow Mord-Sith. Her split lip had healed, but there were still angry scabs near her temple and across her right cheekbone. It made her look dangerous and vulnerable all at once, and the contrast unsettled Kahlan. Her eyes were hard, lips were pulled tight in an angry pout that seemed almost permanent as she surveyed Kahlan, and Kahlan felt her anger falter under Cara's piercing green eyes. 

“Ungrateful,” Cara repeated. If her stare was unsettling, the lack of inflection in her voice was downright terrifying.

Kahlan thrust her chin forward determinedly. "Yes. Ungrateful. If it weren’t for us—“

“If it weren’t for you three halfwits, I’d still have a home.”

The argument Kahlan had been building died at the word “home”. That wasn’t how she imagined the People’s Palace. She envisioned it as a prison of sorts, where mostly innocent people went to be tortured and brainwashed. Mord-Sith, she imagined, were called to serve Darken Rahl out of something twisted that lurked deep in their souls. But even they were oppressed in some way, and for the life of her Kahlan couldn’t imagine being content calling a place like that home. But Cara had, and if she truly believed that, then of course she wouldn’t be inclined to say thank you. Rather than argue her point, Kahlan switched gears.

“It's not exactly a secret you don't like us--" 

"But you'd all be more comfortable if it was a secret," Cara interrupted. Her voice was tinged with ice, detached and cool. "Am I right?"

It sounded ugly coming from Cara, but she wasn't exactly wrong, Kahlan admitted to herself. That was essentially what she was asking. Just not quite so...blunt.

“That’s not…" Kahlan shook her head adamantly. "No, you--”

“You were so certain a moment ago, Confessor. What’s wrong? Don’t like being faced with your own truths?”

Kahlan set her jaw and narrowed her eyes. “You’re twisting my words.”

“I’m being honest. Maybe you should extend me the same courtesy.”

Cara turned to face the spring, Kahlan’s dismissal implied with a flip of her sun bleached hair. Kahlan heard the unmistakable clank of a belt buckle being loosened. Still, she didn’t move. Cara wasn’t going to scare her away by getting naked. What was the old adage? She doesn’t have anything I haven’t seen before?

Except scars, Kahlan thought. A lot of scars.

Light scars traversed the entirety of Cara’s back. They didn’t appear to be raised, save one or two longer, vicious looking wounds. Which meant they’d been well cared for, and, deduced by sheer location, someone other than Cara. Cleaned, bandaged, stitched…she couldn’t imagine this Cara, this cold and angry Cara, ever letting anyone take care of her. Nor did Cara seem to have any concern for her own well being—the cuts on her face had been washed in more sweat than water in the past few weeks.

Kahlan watched the scars stretch and twist, overshadowed by the play of muscles beneath Cara’s tanned skin. Her spine was ridiculously well defined, her upper back cut from stone, yet it all tapered into two sensual dimples just above the rise of Cara’s pants.

“See something you like, Confessor?”

Kahlan started. Cara was looking over her shoulder, pouty lips twisted into a smirk.

“No, I—I was—“ She was embarrassed to have been caught, but even worse was her complete inability to control her reaction. Cara’s tone implied she’d caught Kahlan lusting, and that was not true. Not at all. But she knew that the blush heating her cheeks and her stammering would paint Cara an entirely different picture. She swallowed and thrust her chin forward determinedly. “You have a lot of scars.”

Cara snorted. “So?”

“So…" Kahlan scrambled. "So you don’t generally let blows land.”

Cara turned away again. “I wasn’t always as proficient as I am now.”

Kahlan stepped forward. She didn't know why--to get a better look, maybe. To see just how far beneath her shoulder blade that one scar curved. “Cara the Mord-Sith, admitting she isn’t a great fighter.”

“I did _not_ say—“ Cara turned and found herself closer than she expected to Kahlan. She took a startled step back, and out of reflex, Kahlan grabbed Cara’s arm to keep her upright.

Quick as a blink, Cara wrenched her arm from Kahlan’s grasp. “Do _not_ touch me,” she seethed. She was almost convincing in her anger at having her personal space violated, but Kahlan had seen that momentary flash of fear cross Cara’s features. It was so foreign on Cara’s face it was unmistakable. Cara may have left Darken Rahl’s side and joined Richard, but she was still plagued with a Mord-Sith’s fear of Confession.

And therein lay Kahlan’s power. She pressed forward, sensing a possible blackmail opportunity, if she could only convince Cara she wouldn't hesitate to confess her despite Richard's promises. Cara’s nostrils flared and she stayed stubbornly rooted to the spot.

Kahlan stopped mere inches away, the tip of her nose just above Cara’s. They were nearly the same size, though Cara’s separatist attitude and imposing presence had always made her seem a little taller.

“Funny. I’d say from the look of some of those scars, you let _someone_ touch you.”

Cara’s mouth curled into a sneer. “She also helped in other areas as well. Are you volunteering, Confessor?”

Kahlan heard the challenge in Cara’s voice. She knew, without a doubt, that if she backed down now she would relinquish all power to Cara. Never would Cara have to listen to her. She would open herself to merciless ridicule and, perhaps worse, she would never be able to achieve even grudging respect from Cara. Kahlan thrust her chin forward.

“Maybe.”

Her voice held it’s own challenge. She didn’t expect Cara to back down, but she herself could leave on a high note. Leave with the challenge unanswered. No shift in power, just a bit higher stakes for next time. She allowed herself a smirk. As far as she was concerned, this was check. She stepped away, Cara’s green eyes drawn and fixed tight to Kahlan's.

She was pulled back immediately by Cara’s hand fisted in the loose material around the waist of her dress.

Kahlan crashed into Cara with a gasp, their bodies flush together save for the gap created between their chests by Kahlan’s hands. Her palms were pressed into Cara’s bare skin, just below her neck and just above the swell of her breasts.

“Cara, what—“

“I just thought you should know what you’d be volunteering for,” Cara said. She was smiling wickedly, fully aware of Kahlan’s confounded state. She slid a leg forward, between Kahlan’s, and pressed her strong thigh up into Kahlan’s center.

Kahlan jerked in surprise. “Cara!”

“This is what Mord-Sith do for each other.” Cara’s voice had dropped an octave to something deep and predatory. She moved her hands to Kahlan’s waist and rotated her hips suggestively. "This is what you'd be agreeing to."

The sudden turn in events had Kahlan reeling. This was still a power struggle. There was still a challenge being posed. She just couldn’t see how she could win. Stopping Cara meant she was prudish and timid, put off by Cara’s inherent sexuality. Letting her continue…she didn’t even want to think about what letting Cara continue would mean to the Mord-Sith. It was either the ultimate submission or the ballsiest move Kahlan could make.

Cara seemed unconcerned with Kahlan’s dilemma. Her hands continued to rove Kahlan’s backside, cupping and squeezing areas not even Richard was allowed to cup and squeeze.

And worse than that, she was getting turned on.

She understood her body was a separate entity from her mind. It didn’t care who was stimulating it, only that right now, the right buttons were being pushed.

And pushed hard.

“Cara.” Kahlan was slightly breathless, and she cursed her traitorous body again. “You should stop.”

Cara’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. “So it’s not just Richard you like withholding from. You get off on it too.”

“I don’t…get off. At all,” Kahlan said. She could feel Cara's skin against her fingertips--her nails were digging into Cara's chest.

“I know.” Cara leaned forward until her mouth was a hair’s breadth from Kahlan’s ear, her thigh maintaining an even and constant rhythm. “So let me help,” she whispered.

Her breath was hot against Kahlan’s skin. Prickles of pleasure traveled up Kahlan’s scalp, and the last vestige of rational thought sharpened her awareness. She pushed against Cara’s chest, separating their upper bodies. Cara’s thigh remained stubbornly connected, but Kahlan could feel the dangerous swirl of confessor’s magic starting in her gut. She was stupidly turned on and it was her own fault. If she’d just do it herself once in awhile instead of worrying about if Zedd or Richard were still awake—

It hit her so fast she almost didn’t shove Cara away in time. Cara fell to the ground and Kahlan curled in on herself, hands wrapped around her midsection as her sex clenched in pleasure. The loss of contact just before orgasm dulled what would have been something significantly more earth shattering and left her less than satisfied. It was always that way, though: teetering on the verge of intense pleasure and falling back into something that left her hungry for more, because to achieve that pleasure would require a sacrifice she couldn’t justify.

Kahlan took a deep breath and opened her eyes, steeling herself for whatever crude joke Cara would no doubt make about her being “easy”.

Cara said nothing. She sat, leather clad legs sprawled out in front of her, the muscular plane of her belly shiny with sweat, her weight resting on her hands. The expression on her face was unreadable, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Kahlan’s face.

Kahlan could not look her in the eye. She felt cheap. She had, without even the slightest hint of some elaborate seduction, cheated on Richard. And with a woman he had once turned down out of devotion to Kahlan, no less. 

And to top it all off, she was still painfully aroused.

She quickly turned to leave—what else could she possibly do? Berate Cara for starting something Kahlan had had no problem with allowing her to finish? She was almost the edge of the forest when Cara called after her.

“Can I expect much of the same should I decide to behave?”

The self-satisfied smirk crossing Cara’s face was glaringly evident by the tone of her voice. Kahlan bit back a retort—anything she said would only swing the momentum further to Cara’s favor. Cara had leverage against Kahlan now. No more could Kahlan frighten her into submission with the threat of confession: one word to Richard or Zedd and their precarious harmony as a group would shatter. Kahlan had one option now: figure out a way to put Cara back in her place. 


	2. The Hunter in Her Natural Habitat

For three days, Kahlan endured a barrage of double entendres that seemingly flew over Richard and Zedd’s heads. Some were so obvious—like when Cara asked if Kahlan would like to sit on her lap again instead of sitting on the ground to eat her dinner—that Kahlan started to wonder if the men had figured it out and were staying mum to save her from being forced to admit it. The comments were bad enough, but then there was the way Cara always seemed to be looking at her. Every time Kahlan glanced her way, Cara’s green eyes were fixed on her. And every time she caught Kahlan looking at her, Cara would smirk and wink, like they were sharing a secret instead of holding Kahlan’s future in her hands. 

Because that’s what Richard was, Kahlan reminded herself. The Seeker was her future. It had been prophesized, but more important than that, she could see herself with Richard. Having kids, getting old….the logistics were a little screwy, since they both had external responsibilities—he to D’Hara, she to Aydindril—that couldn’t be ignored. But they worked. They would figure something out. He loved her and she loved him and what had happened with Cara was a moment of insanity that could jeopardize everything.  

Kahlan came to the decision to confront Cara about the looks and the hints just before they stopped to camp for the night. They were half a days walk from a fair sized village, where they would restock and, to Zedd’s infinite excitement, eat a meal not cooked by one of them. They teased him mercilessly about the bottomless pit he called a stomach, but in this case Kahlan agreed. She was more than a little tired of rabbit and fish.

“I think we should add spices to the list of supplies we need,” Kahlan offered as she shrugged off her pack. Cara sidled past her—she’d taken to walking behind Kahlan to “watch her back”. Kahlan didn’t doubt the watching wasn’t literal, only that it was her back Cara’s eyes were fixed on. Cara dropped her pack a few steps away from the others. Not far enough to seclude herself, but enough to reaffirm that she still considered herself an outsider to the group.

“I completely agree.” Zedd nodded enthusiastically. “A bit of basil, some dried garlic…” he sighed in pleasure at the prospect. 

Richard laughed “Zedd, it’s a good thing we do so much walking. You might not be able to keep your girlish figure if we didn’t.” 

“I’ll have you know that a wizard’s metabolism is greater than the average person’s. We simply require more food. Simply drawing upon Wizard’s Fire demands two chicken legs, at least!”

“So that’s why you make Richard start the fire by hand every night,” Kahlan said. “Fear of starvation.”

“Quite right,” Zedd agreed, but he was smiling.

“While you all blather on about eating…” Cara pulled the small hunting bow and a handful of arrows from the side of her pack. “I’m going to go do something about it.”

“Be careful,” Richard called after her, and Kahlan could imagine the disdainful eye roll Cara would have directed at the trees. 

Cara moved away from them, sauntering off the path and deeper into the woods, the cant and sway of her hips belying her deadly abilities. This was perhaps the best opportunity Kahlan would have to confront Cara. Richard and Zedd knew better than to try to infringe on Cara’s self assigned duty of catching dinner, and after tomorrow they’d have food to last at least a few weeks before they’d have to resort to hunting again. 

She couldn’t stand Cara like this for a few weeks. 

Quickly, she stood and followed Cara’s line into the woods. If she didn’t catch her before she started tracking some animal, she’d never find her. 

“Where are you going?” Richard called after her. 

“To relieve myself.”

Kahlan moved briskly through the trees, wrapping her traveling dress tight around her legs and stomach to keep it from snagging on any jutting tree branches. She could just make out Cara weaving carefully ahead of her, her blonde hair an easy contrast to spot in the dark browns and greens of the darkening forest. 

She kept pace until she was certain they were far enough from camp to not be stumbled upon, then hissed “Cara!” 

Ahead of her, Cara stopped but did not turn around. She said nothing when Kahlan finally closed the distance between them and stood next to her. 

The silence between them was awkward and heavy, enhanced by the utter stillness of the forest. The truth was, they didn’t really talk. Ever. Cara most often talked at Kahlan, dropping challenges about her fighting ability or touting the benefits of being a Mord-Sith over those of a Confessor. And Kahlan would speak to Cara primarily through Richard. The last time she’d tried to talk to Cara one on one…well, look where that had gotten her. 

Kahlan took a deep breath. 

“Cara. I would appreciate it if you stopped.” 

“Stopped what?”

Kahlan pursed her lips at Cara’s mocking tone. She’d never hit another human being out of anger—at least not during a verbal confrontation. It didn’t take much imagination to picture Cara as the first. 

Through gritted teeth, Kahlan forced out, “You know what.”

Cara pivoted so that she was facing Kahlan. Her forest bow was looped casually over her shoulder. She let the arrows in her grip fall through her fingers and clatter to the forest floor. 

“We haven’t even started yet.” The familiar smirk was back. Cara reached out a gloved hand as if to trace the curve of Kahlan’s hip, and Kahlan quickly slapped her hand away. She stepped back and pointed a finger in Cara’s face. 

“Don’t.” 

Cara lifted a solitary eyebrow. She didn’t move.

“We are not starting anything,” Kahlan said. Her shoulders were tight and she wished she didn’t sound so defensive, but the words were coming and that was good enough. “It happened. It was stupid. I was stupid to…” Kahlan trailed off. She lifted a hand to her forehead, then shook her head. “I let you do that, and I shouldn’t have. It’s not happening again.”

Cara turned her mouth down thoughtfully. “At least you admit it was your decision.” 

Her conciliatory tone was foreign enough to make Kahlan suspicious. Cara was not reasonable unless it was sarcasm masquerading as reason. 

“So you’ll stop with the little side comments? All the little hints?” 

Cara snorted. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about that. Dust-for-brains back there is not going to figure it out. He’s either too stupid or too trusting to think you’d ever stoop so low as to do _that_ with _me_.” 

Kahlan bristled defensively. “He’s not stupid.”

“No?” Cara was smirking again. “Yesterday I asked if you needed help getting undressed for bed. And then I asked if you wanted to share my bed roll.” She dropped her voice to a whisper and cupped a hand around her mouth, as if they were sharing a secret. “He’s stupid.” 

“He’s not.”

“Fine!” Cara threw her hands up and rolled her eyes. “Trusting, then. Either way, he’s not looking for clues.” 

“And either way, I want you to stop dropping them,” Kahlan insisted. 

“Why? Embarrassed?” 

“No.” 

Cara scoffed. 

“Guilty,” Kahlan said. She glanced down, then off to the side, looking without really seeing the trees and leaves crowding the sky. “I feel guilty.” 

They stood in silence for a few moments. Kahlan was afraid to turn back and find Cara leering at her again, then:

“Yeah right.”

Kahlan’s head whipped around, anger making her vision narrow dangerously. “Excuse me?” 

“I said. Yeah. Right.” Cara rocked back on her heels and crossed her arms over her chest. “Lying to yourself again, Confessor.” 

Kahlan mimicked the pose, but it was an entirely defensive gesture. She didn’t know where this was going, only that she was angry, that Cara made her furious, and that Cara thoroughly enjoyed it when Kahlan was fuming. 

“So, what? You think so low of yourself, you assume anyone who does…” Kahlan gestured vaguely. “ _That,_ with you, must feel embarrassed after?”

Cara shook her head, her expression bored. “No, I know how _prudes_ react when they do _anything_ with _anyone_.”

Kahlan jerked forward a step, fury uprooting her feet from the ground. “I am not a prude!” 

Cara shrugged. “Prove it.” 

“This is…” Kahlan shook her head. Her jaw hurt from clenching. “I am not—“

“Embarrassed.”

Cara held up a finger.

“Prude.” 

She began ticking things off.

“Arrogant. Pretentious. Masquerading behind that repressed Confessor—“

Kahlan closed the distance between them with one step. She was too angry to think clearly. Too angry to consider she was being baited. The only thing that mattered in that moment was proving Cara wrong. With a quick snap of her elbow, her right hand was situated between Cara’s legs. Her fingers cupped Cara’s sex, the heel of her palm pressed into Cara’s pubic bone. Cara did not look surprised, only mildly interested, and that fueled Kahlan’s ire all the more. 

Kahlan leaned in close and said, without unclenching her teeth, “Shut. Up.”

Cara smiled languidly, and Kahlan noticed her tongue curled up behind her right incisor. 

She looked like a predator. 

Then Cara began to moan. Her face contorted into the most pleasure-fueled squint Kahlan had ever seen. She dragged her gloved hands up her body before wrapping her fingers in her hair, all the while increasing the volume and frequency of her moan. Startled, Kahlan tried to pull her hand free, only to have Cara squeeze her thighs together, trapping her hand between her legs. 

“Oh, there it is!” 

Cara was practically screaming. 

“Ohhh, yes! Oh, right there!” 

“Cara!” Kahlan tugged at her hand frantically. Panic replaced her anger in a heartbeat. If Richard or Zedd heard her shouting—

“Don’t stop! Oh, Confessor!” 

With a gasp, Kahlan wrenched her hand free. She stumbled back a few feet, her breath coming in short pants. Just as suddenly as she’d begun, Cara fell silent, though the seething glare she fixed Kahlan with was nothing short of terrifying.

“What…” Kahlan gasped, “What in the name—“ 

“I’m just saying,” Cara interrupted. Her voice was ice again. “Don’t start a pissing competition with me, Confessor. It’s not a fight you’ll win. Though if you want to start something else…” Cara let the insinuation hang as she bent and collected her arrows. She stood and cast Kahlan one last appraising glance. “You know where to find me.” 

Kahlan didn’t breathe again until Cara was out of sight. Once she was certain she was alone, she fell back against a tree and pressed a hand to her chest, willing the adrenaline to seep out of her thundering heart.

 _That could have gone better_ , Kahlan berated herself. Then she thought of Richard’s reaction, should he have stumbled upon the two of them with Kahlan’s hand between Cara’s legs.

It could have been much, much worse.


	3. Fanfare for the Uncommon Man

They entered the village of Stockton around midday to absolutely no fanfare whatsoever. Which Cara did not understand. How was it that a Wizard of the First Order, a Confessor, the Seeker, and a Mord-Sith could go completely unnoticed? These people were farmers and merchants—an event such as this should be the event of the year. And yet, nothing. No women showering them with flowers, no children tugging on Kahlan’s dress or begging Zedd for a magic trick.

Nothing. The villagers went about their daily routines as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

What was the point in saving the world if no one gave you recognition for it?

They stopped at the edge of the market—a wide, sprawling mass of shops and temporary tents where merchants and farmers hocked their wares. Cara turned slowly, quickly observing and evaluating the people closest to them for possible threats. She made eye contact with a child whose mother was filling a basket with apples. The little girl smiled and Cara maintained blank eye contact until the girl’s smile faded and she sank back against her mother’s legs for comfort. Cara allowed herself a small smile.

“Cara.”

No doubt she was about to be told off.

“Yes, Seeker?”

Richard held out a coin purse. “You go with Zedd. See if you can find any salt for drying meat. And, while you’re at it—“ He glanced at Kahlan and gave her a fond smile. “Some seasonings.”

Kahlan returned the smile. Cara hefted the purse.

“I won’t need this much for a simple pack of salt.”

“I have a few supplies I need as well,” Zedd interjected. “I noticed an apothecary just up the street. It may be too much to hope that they carry Dettol paste, but it won’t hurt to check.”

Richard nodded. “If you need anything yourself, Cara—“

“I’ll just tell them I’m with the Seeker and they should be happy to give it to me.”

“Cara.” Richard sighed. “We’ve been over this. We don’t abuse—”

Cara turned and began walking away. She was not a child. She knew Richard’s stance on using his title to get what he wanted. _That was something Darken Rahl did and I need to prove to the people I won’t do the same_ …blah blah blah. She heard the swish of Zedd’s robes as he made to follow her.

“You know, Cara…” Zedd said slowly as he caught up. “If we go to the apothecary first, what’s left in the purse could go to purchasing seasonings. And perhaps…a few hard sweets?”

His tone was so hopeful. A grown man, falling over himself like a child at the prospect of candy. She sighed and slowed her pace.

“Lead on, then, Wizard.”

 

The apothecary Zedd had spotted had a great deal more than just the Dettol paste he had hoped for. And if Cara had thought him excited at the idea of sweets, the wizard was feverish about the apothecary’s wares. He moved through the aisles, letting out little breaths of excitement as he lifted small amber vials filled with liquid, squeezed packages of what looked like wax, and opened tin containers to sniff their contents.

Cara left him to it. There was a display of spinning glass globes near the door that had caught her eye. She could not understand what made them move. She could stop them with a finger, but then once removed the globes would start spinning again—without any outside force pushing them to do so.

“Those are for the kids,” the shopkeeper explained. He had a face like a potato—brown and covered in bumps. “Keeps them entertained so they don’t drop anything breakable.” He smiled blandly and Cara squinted her eyes at him. She did not like the insinuation.

She moved away from the display and began meandering down the aisles, purposefully running her gloved fingers across every fragile looking bottle she saw. She found Zedd stirring a tall bottle of black liquid, an expression of pure bliss on his face.

“Ah! Cara!” He held to bottle out to her. “A bottle of Nebuli Ink! Can you imagine?!?”

“No,” Cara replied honestly. She had no idea what a Nebuli even was. She took the bottle from Zedd and watched as brownish bubbles rose to the surface. “What does it do?”

Zedd chuckled. “Nothing good, that’s for certain.”

Cara placed the bottle back on the shelf. “I didn’t realize wizards relied so heavily on potions.”

“We don’t. I personally have developed an interest in unusual concoctions.” He sniffed a tin of what looked to Cara like dried spinach and made a face. “Ah. Stunt Cabbage. Perfectly foul.” He held the tin out to Cara. She snorted.

“I think not.”

“Suit yourself.” He replaced the lid and returned the tin to the shelf. “I have a few more items to look for. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It’s fine.” Cara fell into step behind Zedd as they slowly made their way down the aisle. “Salt won’t exactly take all afternoon to find.”

Zedd nodded absently, back in his own world of potions and poultices.

Cara idly traced the raised lettering on a bottle of _Swamp Root, Kidney Liver and Bladder Cure!_

“You do realize they’re going to come back with some quest for us to go on, don’t you?”

Distracted, Zedd lifted his chin but did not take his eyes from the shelf in front of him. “Who?”

“Richard. And Kahlan.”

“Oh. Yes.”

“Someone in town will have lost their dog. Or some prized…vegetable.”

Zedd chortled. “Vegetable?”

“Or something equally ridiculous.”

“You don’t enjoy our little side quests?”

“Not particularly, no. The last time I checked, saving the world was considered a time sensitive endeavor.”

“True.” Zedd nodded to the shopkeeper, who was leaning on the counter, waiting eagerly to ring them up, before turning and meandering down the next aisle. “But perhaps we fail?”

“What do you mean?”

“Perhaps we don’t find the Stone of Tears in time. Perhaps the Keeper takes control of the living world. Isn’t it better to have made someone’s life a little happier, even if it was only for a few months?”

“Wouldn’t you rather increase the chances of not failing by giving yourself more time?”

“Each argument has its points.” Zedd passed her back a teardrop shaped emerald vial. “Hold on to that for me?”

Cara held the bottle carefully in the palm of her hand. “I’m just saying, I was hoping to get to sleep in a bed tonight. Drink some ale. Eat a large meal.”

Zedd was nodding in agreement as they made their way back to the counter.

“But those two are going to come back with a quest, and we’re going to be sleeping on the ground tonight.”

Zedd turned to face her, his wrinkles etching shadows of worry across his face.

“Richard knows better—“ he began, only to be interrupted by the clang of the bell above the door. Then Richard Cypher was standing at the door, his eyes bright, his hand gripping the pommel of The Sword of Truth.

“There you two are. We’ve been looking all over for you!”

“What is it?” Zedd’s tone sounded as wary as Cara felt.

“A woman who lives on the outskirts of town—she’s being stalked by a baneling. I told her we could help. I’ll meet you outside—I have to go tell Kahlan I found you.”

As quickly as he’d appeared, Richard was gone.

Zedd let out a heavy sigh.

“Told you,” Cara intoned.

The shopkeeper was eyeing them warily. “You’re baneling hunters?”

“Of a sort,” Cara said. “That was the Seeker.” She clapped Zedd on the shoulder. “This…This is a Wizard of the First Order.”

The shopkeeper’s large mouth dropped open in surprise. “In my shop!” he gasped. He clutched at his chest—an oddly feminine move, Cara noted.

“In my shop!” he repeated. He gestured to the shop at large. “Please! Anything you want! No charge! No charge!” He fell back onto a nearby stool, his eyes wide.

Cara caught Zedd’s eye. The wizard was doing his best to look impassive about the man’s reaction. He was failing miserably.

Cara grinned.

That was a little more like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A set up chapter, if you will. No Cara and Kahlan action, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the interaction between Cara and Zedd.


	4. A Confirmation Bias

The woman with the baneling problem was not, as Cara had assumed, a lonely old woman with failing eyesight. She was young, though several years older than Cara herself. Too young to mistake her cat for a baneling, as Cara had suggested during their trek through town.

The woman welcomed them at the gate.

“You really do have a wizard,” she breathed. Next to Cara, Zedd puffed his chest proudly.

“For all the good he does us, yes,” Cara muttered. Zedd elbowed her. In front of them, Kahlan’s shoulders shook once in what Cara suspected was a silent laugh.

“We do. “ Richard was using his I-can-solve-the-world’s-problems-with-just-my-smile smile. “Cara, Zedd…This is Lily.” He turned his attention back to Lily. "If the baneling shows up, after we kill it, Zedd will burn the body so that it can’t return again.”

Lily nodded, but she didn’t seem completely convinced. She looked drawn and on edge as she ushered them into her yard. Several chickens roamed freely, clucking and scratching for bugs as Lily led them around the house, completely unconcerned for their owner's plight.

“Here are the claw marks…well, finger nail marks, I suppose.” Lily gestured towards a window. Deep gouges were cut into the trim surrounding the glass, and five scratches marred the glass. Cara stepped close and held her hand to the window. The scratches were about the width of her fingers when curled into a claw. If her hand was a bit bigger, it would fit perfectly. She dropped her hand and gazed through the window.

“Is this your bedroom?”

“Yes.”

Cara stepped back, surveying the scratch marks again. Something—or someone—had definitely tried to get in. She just wasn’t so convinced it was a baneling.

“He shows up every night and tries to get through my window,” Lily continued. She wrapped her arms around her slender frame. Kahlan stepped close and draped an arm around the woman’s shoulders comfortingly. She did it naturally, as if the action were born of instinct. Cara watched as Lily leaned into the support, then forced herself to turn her attention back to the problem at hand.

“He never tries to come through the door?”

“Maybe he does. I don’t know—there are no scratch marks there in the morning. I lock it, so maybe he tries that first and I don’t hear him.” Lily shook her head miserably. “I don’t know how I could miss it, though, if he did. I feel like I don’t sleep anymore.”

“And you know it’s a he?” Zedd interjected.

Lily nodded. “I’ve seen him. The first night. He…” She swallowed and began trembling, then lifted her hands to her face. “I’m sorry. I just keep seeing him, all grey and…” she trailed off.

Kahlan rubbed her shoulder soothingly. “It’s okay. We’re here to help. We’re going to stop him.”

Lily nodded, and Kahlan made eye contact with Richard.

“I’m going to get her inside. Let me know if you need my help.”

Richard nodded and waited until Kahlan and Lily had rounded the corner of the house before turning back to Zedd and Cara.

“So?”

“The poor woman,” Zedd sighed. “She doesn’t even feel safe in her own home.”

Richard lifted his chin in agreement. “I think we set a watch. One person outside, three people inside. We’ll switch every two hours. Try to catch up on some sleep. It’s only one baneling, I’m sure whoever is on watch can handle him on their own.”

“A very discerning baneling,” Cara said.

Zedd nodded. “Indeed.”

Richard frowned. “How so?”

“Think about it. How many banelings have we met that pick a single target to terrorize?”

Richard’s frown deepened. “None.”

“Exactly.” Cara dropped her hand to the hilt of her agiel, excitement quickening her words as she began to build her case. “They kill whoever’s convenient so that they can live another day. And they’re not stupid. They know how to break a window. Or break down a door.” Cara shook her head. “Whoever’s terrorizing her, I doubt it’s a baneling.”

“But she saw it,” Richard protested, though his voice held a hint of doubt.

“How many banelings do you think she’s seen in her life?”

Richard was silent. Then: “You think she’s lying?”

Cara shrugged. “I think someone’s scaring her. I just don’t think it’s a baneling.”

“Who?”

Cara threw her hands up in frustration. “Creator. How would I know, Seeker? You know her better than I do!”

“I’ve known her for a few hours!”

“Exactly!”

Richard fell silent.

“Maybe Kahlan is having more luck on that front,” Zedd offered. “In the meantime, baneling or not, someone is scaring this poor girl, and we’ve agreed to stop them. So.” He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s plan our attack.”

* * *

 

The plan of attack consisted primarily of sitting around with a “wait and see” strategy.

Typical, Cara thought as she piled the blankets and pillows Lily had given her to sleep with in the corner of Lily’s living space. Let bad things happen, and then clean up the mess. If there was a mantra for their group, that was it. Personally, she’d rather take a more proactive approach. Which was why she’d volunteered to take the watch during the time Lily’s baneling had most often been sighted during. She knew it surprised no one. She was a blood thirsty Mord-Sith, out to inflict pain, after all. Probably going through withdrawals after not having any faces to bash in the past few days. No way she could have any other possible motive.

Kahlan exited the second bedroom—Richard had practically sprained his tongue in his hurry to insist that she take the other bed—and paused just inside the door when she saw that only Cara remained in the house.

“Where are Richard and Zedd?”

“Making some sort of…” Cara gestured vaguely. “I don’t know. They called it camouflage.”

Cara made the mistake of glancing at Kahlan. The Confessor was looking out the window, a fond smile plying her lips at Richard's genius. Cara rolled her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Kahlan said after a moment. “I know you probably wanted to sleep in a bed tonight.”

Cara bristled. She didn’t know if Kahlan was rubbing in the fact that she’d been awarded a mattress for the night, but that was the way Cara took it. It was exactly what she would have done, anyway. Tit for tat, then.

“Actually, I didn’t care about a bed, so long as I got laid.”

Kahlan inhaled sharply.

“Oh, not with you,” Cara said crossly. She scowled and kicked her blankets further into the corner. Honestly, Confessors were so full of themselves. “With anyone who bought me a drink.” She lifted her head and shot Kahlan a smile that was all teeth. Kahlan was shaking her head.

“How can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Just…” Kahlan held her hands up, as if she were trying to trap the right words between them. “Sleep with…whoever?”

“It’s actually pretty easy.” Cara was getting irritated. The Confessor had the unique ability to make Cara sound like a cheap whore, and that wasn’t it at all. She was a Mord-Sith. She lived on the edge of pain and pleasure all day, every day. Sex was a vital part of who she was. Definitely not something to feel embarrassed about. “You find a person you think is attractive, you say, ‘would you like to f—“

“No!” Kahlan clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing too late how loud she’d been. She dropped her hand slowly. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, how can you just sleep with a man or a woman? Don’t you have a preference?”

“Would it make you feel better if I did?”

“No,” Kahlan replied quickly. “Just…” A blush began working its way up her cheeks. She pushed away from the wall. “Forget it,” she muttered.

“Just curious, right?” Cara provided.

Kahlan stopped, her hand poised on the door handle to the outside.

Running away from the big bad Mord-Sith.

Running back to Richard.

Cara worked her jaw, exasperated. “Fine. Short answer: men are easy. Women are hard.”

Kahlan turned slowly. “How so?”

“They do what you do.” Cara flopped into Lily’s easy chair, legs sprawled out in front of her, hands draped over the side. She surveyed the Confessor before her. Fists tight, face locked, lips pursed. The perfect picture of restraint. Cara sucked her cheeks in.

What a waste.

“And what do I do?”

“You freak out. You convince yourself that it was my fault—“

“It _was_ your fault!” Kahlan interrupted. Her anger had begun to leak out, radiating off of her like heat from a fire. “If you hadn’t—“

The door opened behind Kahlan. She jumped back, startled.

Lily craned her neck around the corner. “Sorry, the Seeker asked me to see if you two could come help carry some boughs back.”

“For the camouflage?” Cara did not try to keep the sarcasm from her voice.

Lily nodded.

“We’ll be right there,” Kahlan replied.

Lily nodded, then hesitated. “Sorry, were you two…were you arguing, just now?”

“Of course not,” Kahlan said quickly. “We just…” she glanced at Cara, her expression dark and threatening. “Had a difference of opinion.”

Cara pushed herself up from the chair and crossed the room. She patted Kahlan’s cheek in mock tenderness as she passed.

“Whatever you want to call it, Confessor.”

* * *

 

Cara felt like she’d barely closed her eyes to sleep before Zedd roused her with a nudge and a whispered “Your turn”. She rubbed the grit from her eyes and ran her hands through her hair, trying in vain to get it out of her eyes without the help of water before tugging on her leather gloves. For the hundredth time she wished her fellow sisters had left the braid intact. She could have withstood a dozen more vicious blows, but hair too short to tie back…that was an extreme inconvenience. It served as a daily reminder of her decision to betray Darken Rahl.

Well, that and the fact that she now found herself traveling with do-goodingest do-gooders in history.

The camouflage “bunker” Richard and Zedd had constructed was nothing more than a lean-to of pine branches positioned to the side of Lily’s bedroom window, and Cara was not about to use it. Maybe a deer would be fooled, but a human being—especially a human being who was well acquainted with the house—would know something was up. Her best bet was to catch the culprit in the woods—providing he hadn’t already been scared off—before he got close enough to the house to realize something was amiss. Which was fine with Cara. She wasn’t a fan of sitting around anyway.

And if she was moving, then she wasn’t thinking about what Kahlan seemed convinced she was always thinking about, which was Kahlan.

She began her watch by moving out of the shadow of the house, further into the woods, so that there were at least five trees separating her from the yard at all times. Cara walked slowly, prowling, her boots landing softly, her feet moving from heel to toe, from outside to inside. The woods weren’t completely silent. Nocturnal creatures scampered between trees, and the air was alive with the sounds of crickets and a not-so-far away pond.

During her time as a Mord-Sith, Cara had stalked more than her fair share of human prey. Across deserts, through marshes and forests, and once during a D’Haran Oddity Faire. Humans moved differently than any other creature. They walked noisily, with the clumsiness of a creature who has lost all sense of survival tactics. They did not need to be quiet to avoid predators and they did not need to be quiet to catch dinner. The instinct for silence, for stillness, had been lost over thousands of years. Even a person trying to be quiet made more noise than the largest deer slipping through the forest. Cara would find Lily’s “baneling, she had no doubt about that.

She just needed to move slowly enough that he didn’t see her first.

As Cara rounded the corner of the house nearest Lily’s bedroom, she caught sight of a large lump crouched next to a tree she was certain hadn’t been there before. She quickened her pace, running on her toes through the trees, her arms away from her sides to avoid the swish of leather on leather.

She was ten steps away before the figure heard her coming, and by that time it was too late. He moved to stand and Cara tackled him. She wrapped an arm around his neck as they fell, twisting him onto his back and flipping herself gracefully into a crouched position, one hand on the ground, the other on the butt of an agiel.

The man squirmed on the ground, twisting his lower body from left to right, and finally let out a high pitched keening sound. Cara smiled to herself. She’d knocked the wind out of him.

She stood and advanced casually, placing a boot in the middle of his chest.

“Hello, baneling.”

The man swiped at her leg, and in a move born from years of practice, Cara unsheathed an agiel and placed it below his left eye, crouching and placing most of her weight on his chest before the man had a chance to consider moving a second time.

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t do that again.” The hungry whir of the agiel echoed Cara’s words. She felt the man’s chest expand and retract frenetically beneath her foot.

So he understood what she was holding. Good to know. He was a murky outline on the forest floor, a bit blacker around the edges than everything else, save for the glint of sparse moonlight reflected by his eyes. She wished this confrontation were taking place in broad daylight, where he could get the full Mord-Sith effect. But who knew, Cara encouraged herself, maybe she could still get him to wet his pants.

“What’s your name, baneling boy?”

“I’m—I’m not—a baneling.”

Cara reached out and seized him by the hair. The agiel, sensing her increased irritation, wailed a little louder.

“Is that what I asked you?” Cara demanded through gritted teeth.

“Bentley!” The man’s voice was frantic, high pitched with fear. Cara could feel him shaking beneath her hand. “My name is Bentley!”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Bentley?”

“No!”

“I know you’re not a baneling, Bentley.” She sniffed. “You smell far too alive to be a baneling. I also don’t care. You want to act like a baneling, you’re going to get treated like a baneling.”

Bentley moaned.

“Yes, you are.” Cara adjusted her grip, shaking his head slightly side to side. “Do you know how we get rid of banelings?”

Bentley was quiet.

Cara lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We burn them.”

“No!” Bentley began thrashing beneath her. He twisted his head and Cara released his hair, allowing him to twist his nose into her agiel. It screamed and a moment later, so did Bentley.

Cara slammed the hand holding the agiel into the ground next to Bentley’s head, allowing the agiel to hum next to his ear. Bentley was crying quietly, and Cara seized him by the face, squeezing until her fingers made whimpering impossible.

“I don’t care why you’re doing this, Bentley. I don’t care if Lily stole your horse or if she owes you a thousand bags of corn seed. I don’t even care if she murdered your parents. What I care about is the fact that I should be sleeping right now. Not solving some farm girl’s fake baneling problem. I have much—” Cara shook him roughly, anger making her voice gravelly. “ _Much_ better things to be doing. Do you understand me?”

 Cara’s hand moved up and down. A nod.

“Wonderful. Now I am going to let you up, and you are going to go away. Forever. And if I ever see that girl with so much as a pair of bags under her eyes, do you know what I’m going to do?”

Bentley shook his head.

Cara moved her index finger and stroked the bridge of Bentley’s nose once.

“I’m going to find the man named Bentley with a scar on his nose and use my agiel on his every orifice.” Cara lifted her agiel and moved it lower on Bentley’s body. He jerked beneath her, and Cara smiled cheerfully. Men and their penetration issues.

 She stood slowly and removed her foot. She could make out the whites of Bentley’s eyes below her.

Cara sheathed her agiel.

“You can go home now.”

Bentley did not need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted away in the direction of the village, any pretense of silence abandoned in favor of speed.

Cara sighed happily. She actually felt lighter. Maybe she had been craving a little release of aggression after all.

She turned to make her way back to Lily’s house—back to sleep—and felt the weight she’d released return. A figure in white lurked at the edge of the woods, backlit by the lone candle in Lily’s bedroom window. The Confessor had arrived, no doubt to talk some more about the interactions they’d been having lately. How someone could be so obsessed with a simple act of sex, Cara did not understand. Was it really that hard for non-Mord-Sith to leave sex as sex? Did everyone turn it into such a big deal? The only reason she continued to even discuss it with Kahlan was that it was essentially a topic guaranteed to grind on Kahlan’s nerves.

And Creator help her, there was nothing Cara enjoyed more.

“Out for a midnight stroll, Confessor?” Cara asked nonchalantly as she approached. She did not stop and wait for an answer. Her bed beckoned, and if she could put Kahlan’s talking off until tomorrow, Cara could die happy.

Kahlan fell into step beside her. “I saw that.”

She did not sound upset, which surprised Cara. She’d half expected a reprimand for not catching Bentley to prove to Lily there was no real baneling to fear.

“Did you.”

“It was sweet. In a kind of…bristly, Cara way.”

Was she drunk, or was Kahlan attempting to tease her?

Cara stopped before they left the patch of yard illuminated by Lily’s candle. Kahlan’s mouth was indeed turned up in a small smile as she pivoted to face Cara.

“You think threatening to burn a man’s prostate is sweet?”

Kahlan flashed her teeth. “That’s not the part I was referring to. Although…very creative.”

Again, a comment Cara did not know how to take. Honest humor or sarcasm? She chose to ignore it completely.

“I thought Richard was replacing me?”

Kahlan shrugged. “I offered. I couldn’t sleep. I think I’m too used to sleeping on the ground.”

She was trying for levity, and that was never good. Cara stayed silent.

Kahlan sighed, her expression turning serious. “Cara—“

There it was.

 Cara bristled. “If this is going to be another speech about it being wrong and how you feel guilty, I’d rather not hear it.”

Kahlan was shaking her head, her eyes large and honest. “That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Good.”

“Not entirely.”

 Cara rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of the Creator—“

“Look!” Kahlan moved forward, closing the gap between them and blocking Cara’s escape routes. “I got angry and I made some poor decisions.” She bit her lip and cast her gaze about Cara’s face. “Several…poor decisions. I’m sorry. I said some things I shouldn’t have, I did some things I’m not proud of, and I’m sure you feel the same.”

Cara turned her mouth down in denial and began shaking her head. “Nope.”

Kahlan blinked. Her forehead slowly creased. “Excuse me?”

“I’m not sorry at all.” Cara poured as much false cheer as she was capable of into her voice. “I meant every word.”

“Cara—“

Cara dropped the jolly tone. She was not going to be talked into regretting anything she did, let alone apologize for something she would have no problem doing again. “If you want to blame anger on your finally letting go, fine. Then in my opinion…” She stepped close, eliminating any space left between them. Her thighs brushed Kahlan’s, and she heard Kahlan’s quiet intake of breath at the contact. “There is nothing sexier than a Kahlan Amnell who is mind blowingly…” Cara dipped her head, leaning in close and tracing the curve of Kahlan’s neck from collarbone to ear with the edge formed by her nose and mouth.

“Furious,” she finished quietly. Kahlan’s head canted slightly, offering more of her neck to Cara. She could smell the coarse soap they used to bathe on Kahlan’s skin, flooding her senses like an aphrodisiac. Cara exhaled and the dark strands of Kahlan’s hair fluttered away from her neck.

“Cara…” Kahlan’s voice was soft, entranced, and Cara knew she was a heartbeat away from surrendering to whatever urges she’d watched the Confessor tamp down the past few days. It was tempting—Creator, was it tempting—but Cara forced back her libido. She had her own point to prove, and she wasn’t about to open herself to weeks of the Confessor’s fury should she give in. That was a line Kahlan had to cross all on her own.

With the tip of her nose, Cara brushed the joint created by Kahlan’s jaw just behind her ear.

“Are you angry right now, Confessor?” Cara whispered.

Kahlan’s reply was little more than a breath. “No…”

Cara hummed against Kahlan’s neck, an action she knew from experience would send chills racing through Kahlan’s neck and arms.

Kahlan shivered.

“Are you sure?”

Again, a breath: “Yes.”

“Then I think you need to rethink your theory.” Cara stepped back, pleasantly surprised to find Kahlan’s eyes closed. They fluttered open at the loss of contact. Kahlan’s pupils were large, the usually indigo irises dulled by the night.

“I think,” Cara continued, careful to keep any smugness from her voice, “angry or not, I just plain turn you on.”

Kahlan bit her lip, and Cara watched as a flurry of emotions crossed her face. What remained was a look of total confusion and what looked to be the beginning of tears.

Kahlan crossed her arms over her chest, grabbing opposite shoulders with her hands. She closed her eyes and canted her head back, and Cara recognized the move as an attempt to keep the tears from falling.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

Cara’s hand unconsciously found the butt of her agiel, the pain comforting in its familiarity.

“Look, Confessor. I’m fine with being an itch you need to scratch I’m very…very familiar with the feeling.”

Kahlan opened her eyes and looked at her, surprised.

Cara shrugged. It was the truth. She’d been both the scratcher and the scratchee before. “Just as long as you accept it and stop blaming it on me.”

Kahlan lifted her head to the sky again. “Creator…”

“I’m going back to bed,” Cara informed her. “I’ve dealt with the...baneling problem. There’s not really a need for a watch anymore.”

Kahlan did not reply, and Cara did not expect her to. She left Kahlan to her thoughts and returned to the house for a few more hours of sleep before the endless walking started again. She’d said all she needed to say, and Kahlan knew exactly where to find her.


	5. Trouble with the Truth

Kahlan knew she was distracted as they left Storkton. Her returned hug from Lily was weak at best, and Richard asked her several times if anything was wrong. Her response that no, nothing was wrong, everything was fine was obviously not believed, because both Richard and Zedd glanced her way often, their gazes perplexed as they walked. Kahlan was too distracted to care. Her conversation with Cara the previous night had her in an emotional tail spin. There was a part of her that vehemently denied it—Cara did not turn her on. That was crass and crude and she should have laughed in Cara’s face when she’d said so last night. But there was another part of her—a niggling, growing part—that continued to offer alternative proof. There was the fact that she’d let Cara touch her at all. There was the fact that when Cara had mostly ignored Kahlan their entire time in Storkton, Kahlan had missed turning around to find Cara’s eyes on her. Even beyond the past few days, there was proof. Like the fact that she thought Cara was beautiful. They all knew it, Cara most of all, but how many times could Kahlan notice before she had to admit it may be a physical attraction? She’d met plenty of beautiful people in her life, and never before had she noticed how that beauty was intensified or altered—never diminished—by Cara’s many moods. Creator, she considered Richard a handsome man, and she didn’t dwell on his looks as often as she did Cara’s.

Kahlan adjusted the strap of the pack hanging across her shoulders. It was heavier than she was used to, weighed down with food and supplies. Already her back was beginning to ache with the unfamiliarity of it. She sighed loudly, the bag adding to her frustration.

Richard was beside her in an instant—or maybe he’d been walking close the entire time and Kahlan just hadn’t noticed. “I can carry it for awhile, if you’d like.”

Kahlan straightened, using a sweaty hand to brush her hair away from her face. Richard’s lips were quirked in an encouraging smile, his eyes open and honest, eager to take the weight from her shoulders. He was a good man, always ready to help anyone that needed it. And he loved her. He deserved better than what she’d been giving him.

Kahlan smiled back and shook her head. “Thank you. I can carry it.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s not that heavy. I’m just not used to it.” Kahlan straightened, to prove that her pack was not actually dragging her into the ground. “Besides, if we were to be attacked, it wouldn’t do to have you laden down like a porter.”

Richard let out an appreciative laugh. He subtly moved closer as they walked, and Kahlan allowed his familiar gait to pace her own steps. Zedd was leading the way, Cara an unseen presence behind them, and for a second Kahlan could imagine that it was still just they three of them, they were still marching to beat Darken Rahl to the Boxes of Orden, and that she was still completely infatuated with the man walking next to her and not confused at all by a woman she was supposed to hate.

“You know what I’ve been thinking would be a good idea?” Richard’s voice was cheerfully conspiratorial, and Kahlan recognized it as an attempt to cheer her up, to put an end to her brooding.

She played along. “What?”

“What about a horse service between villages? You rent a horse from one village, ride it to the next, and return it to a certain stable. That way you can shorten your journey time by riding, but you don’t have to buy a horse or feed it.”

Kahlan nodded, considering the idea. It would be ideal for the four of them, anyway.

“And what’s to stop someone from riding away with the horse instead of returning it?” Cara chimed in.

Richard evidently had not thought of that. His mouth turned down in thought, and Kahlan was struck by the realization that this conversation outlined the inherent differences between Richard and Cara: it had never occurred to Richard that a dishonest person would steal a horse, while that was the first thing that occurred to Cara.

Richard cast Kahlan a sideways glance that said Oh well, his idea already shattered. “Maybe you could train the horse to never leave the path,” he offered half-heartedly.

Behind them, Cara snorted. “Beat something often enough, it’ll do whatever you want it to, training or no.”

Richard stopped and turned to face Cara. Confused, Kahlan followed his lead. Cara seemed to shrink from their gaze while simultaneously trying to pretend she didn’t notice them. She bristled abruptly.

“What?” she snapped.

 _If looks could kill…_ Kahlan thought.

Richard’s gaze was gentle, his voice soothing, like he was attempting to tame a wild animal. “Cara, what Darken Rahl—“

Cara snarled viciously, cutting Richard off. She shoved past Kahlan and Richard, moving quickly and passing Zedd for the lead. Zedd, who had stopped when he realized the other three weren’t behind him, raised his bushy eyebrows in question. Richard shook his head and sighed. He gestured for Zedd to follow. 

They continued walking, Cara moving quickly a good distance ahead. From the sharpness of her steps and the hunch of her shoulders, Kahlan could tell she was furious. Kahlan tugged Richard’s thumb when their hands brushed together and leaned into him. “What was that all about?”

Richard glanced at her, then back to Cara. “It’s how Mord-Sith are trained to become servants of the Lord Rahl,” he explained quietly. “They’re taken from home when they’re young girls and beaten.” Richard hesitated. “Broken,” he amended, “until the only thing they know is pain, and the only person they serve is Rahl.”

Kahlan slowed as that information set in. Richard’s hand slipped into hers, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Denna told me,” he explained, and he sounded sorry he’d told her.

Kahlan said nothing. This was information she had not expected, and she did not know what to do with it. She’d always assumed Mord-Sith were selected for their sadistically depraved natures. But being forced to become depraved—and as a child, no less…

Kahlan tried to imagine Cara as a child, alone and scared and defenseless, being hurt. Beaten into submission by adults, the very people children turned to for comfort and protection. To have one’s childhood ripped away, to be forced to conform in order to survive…broken, yes. Broken was a better word for what that would do to a child.

Richard squeezed her hand again. “Are you okay?”

Kahlan realized her chest hurt. She was watching Cara, seeing her in a new light. Seeing all Mord-Sith in a new light. How could she hate women who had been violently molded into the forms they filled at such a young age? She could not. She could only redirect her hate towards Darken Rahl. What sort of sick monster thought of doing that to young girls, let alone carried the practice out? “How old?” she whispered.

“How old when they were taken?” Richard rubbed his chin through his beard. “I don't know. Young. Between six and nine?.”

“Creator…” Kahlan breathed.

“I know.” Richard pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.

Kahlan closed her eyes, allowing Richard's familiar manner to comfort her. “I hate him.”

“I hate him, too.”

Kahlan laughed darkly, the irony of the situation dawning on her. “We hate him for what he did to Cara, and Cara loves him.”

Richard shook his head. “I wouldn’t say love. Not Cara. Cara is…unique.”

“You said that before,” Kahlan said, recalling the conversation they’d had when he’d first argued for Cara to join them. “Why?”

“She has…interesting ideas about where her loyalty lies.” Richard frowned, thinking over that statement, then nodded. “Yes. She’s loyal to the bond, just like any D’Haran, but she’s not loyal to the Rahl unless he earns that loyalty.”

“And the other Mord-Sith are loyal to Rahl,” Kahlan said. Richard hummed in agreement. “Well, she’s consistently independent,” Kahlan said with a sigh.

Richard laughed in agreement.

Ahead of them, Cara increased her pace. With an irritated huff, Zedd fell back to join Kahlan and Richard, tired of trying to keep up with Cara’s brisk pace.

“What’s the matter, Zedd? Tired already?” Richard teased.

The pair fell into an easy banter regaling the benefits of youth and stamina versus age and wisdom, and Kahlan allowed a distracted smile to grace her lips, her mind back on Cara. Somehow, she knew Cara didn’t want her pity. She felt angry for the young girl Cara had once been. She wished there had been someone like Richard around then, to save Cara from Rahl. Maybe that was what he was doing now, she thought. Trying to make up for the fact that no one had been there when Cara was younger. But beyond all of that—beyond Richard’s reasons for taking her on and Cara’s reasons for letting him, Kahlan found herself immeasurably impressed with Cara’s ability to retain her independence. In Kahlan’s experience, Mord-Sith were like a pack of wolves: deadly and aggressive, but ultimately bowing before the authority of the alpha. Cara bowed to no one. Not Darken Rahl, not a fellow Mord-Sith, and not to Richard. She voiced her opinions freely, and Kahlan was surprised to discover she was glad of that. Glad, she thought with a smile, when a week ago you were furious she had the audacity to voice an alternative opinion.

Her opinion of Cara was changing. Could that mean that perhaps Cara was right—that there was an attraction there? An itch Kahlan needed to scratch?

She thought again to their angry encounter at the spring, only instead of dwelling on how she would feel if Richard found out, Kahlan thought about what she’d felt in the moment. Cara’s hard thigh between her legs. Cara’s hands, strong and possessive as they roamed her back. The naked skin of Cara’s strong stomach. The way her green eyes had stared so intently while Kahlan came…

The first stirrings of arousal hit her sex, and Kahlan attempted to divert her attention to the conversation taking place beside her. Her eyes, however, fixed squarely on Cara’s backside, and Kahlan found herself fantasizing about how to initiate a second encounter. She could write Cara a note asking her to come with her to find some water. Or she could follow Cara when she went to relieve herself and when Cara asked what she was doing, Kahlan would shove her up against a tree—

Another spike of arousal and Kahlan clenched her thighs. She should not be thinking like this. She should be happy with Richard. She should be thinking about following _him_ into the woods, surprising _him_. Yet even as she scolded herself, Kahlan knew. The wetness between her legs was proof enough: sooner rather than later, Cara was indeed an itch she was going to need to scratch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm two weeks in, and I'd like to thank everyone who has left a comment, a kudo, or even just read the story.  
> It all motivates me to keep writing. Thank you!


	6. Open the Kingdom

Cara remained stubbornly distant for the remainder of the day. Kahlan assumed that once they stopped for the night, Cara would roll out her bedroll and eat her dinner sullenly. Instead, she took two pieces of venison jerky and stomped away, not even bothering to be quiet. It wasn’t often that they ran across D’Haran soldiers or highwaymen or banelings this far from a village, but Kahlan could tell that Cara was looking for a fight. If there were any enemies in the area, she was going to find them.

Richard shook his head as she stomped away. “I shouldn’t have said anything earlier,” he said.

Kahlan touched his elbow. “You didn’t know she’d react this way.”

“She’s told me before she wasn’t going to talk about it. I think she’s upset that I brought it up in front of you and Zedd.” He winced. “She probably felt trapped.”

“Well, nothing that a little trunk bashing won’t fix.” Zedd lowered himself to a sitting position with a sigh, his long legs crossed in front of him.

“A little what?” Kahlan said.

“Trunk bashing.” Zedd began rubbing his hands together. “I’ll handle the fire tonight, Richard.” He turned back to Kahlan. “It’s when you go out in the woods and smash a stick against a tree trunk until you no longer feel angry.”

“So Cara will be gone for a few days.” Richard smiled weakly.

“Oh, I’m sure Cara’s doing her own version of trunk bashing.” Zedd chuckled. “It’s probably a bit more like head bashing.”

Kahlan bit her lip. That was exactly what she was afraid of: that angry Cara would rush headlong into some fight that she wouldn’t come out of unscathed. And here they were, trying to give her space when what she really might need was backup.

“Hey.” Richard cupped her face gently, pulling her gaze from the woods to his face. “Cara will be fine. She knows how to take care of herself.”

Kahlan nodded. She knew that, but it didn’t calm the pit of worry in her stomach. Behind them, Zedd’s Wizard’s Fire blazed to life, a beacon in the forest should Cara choose to return. 

* * *

 

Cara crept back to camp hours after both Richard and Zedd had fallen asleep. Kahlan had volunteered to take the first watch, and the end of her shift had come and gone some time ago. She’d refused to wake Zedd though, determined to wait up until Cara reemerged.

“It’s me,” Cara announced boredly as she approached, and Kahlan relaxed her grip on her daggers.

“Where have you been?” Kahlan asked, her voice just as quiet. Cara tried to slip past her without answering. Kahlan grabbed her arm, pulling her up short. When Cara lifted her head to glare, Kahlan spotted a bubble of blood marring Cara’s full lower lip. She reached out, and before her fingers could make contact, Cara jerked her head—and arm—away.

“I’m fine.”

Kahlan’s temper flared. She could understand Cara’s need to get away from them, to release some of her anger, but Cara could do it without making them all worry. “Obviously you’re fine. You walked back, didn’t you? I asked where you were, not if you were alright.”

Cara ignored the question again, her gaze on their campsite. “Who rolled out my bedroll?”

“I did.”

“What for?”

Kahlan exhaled sharply through her nose. “I don’t know, Cara. So you could sleep on it?”

“You didn’t know I was coming back,” Cara pointed out.

“Wishful thinking, I guess.”

Cara shrugged. Kahlan had not expected a thank you, and she refused to demean herself in Cara’s eyes in search of one. “You should go to bed. I’ll take the next watch.”

“Zedd’s taking the next watch,” Kahlan said. “You go to bed.”

Cara leaned casually against a nearby tree and crossed her arms over her chest. The light from the fire illuminated half of her face—the half containing the bloodied lip. Unconsciously, Cara probed the wound with the tip of her tongue. Despite her best efforts to match Cara’s stubborn glare with her own, Kahlan faltered for a split second when she saw Cara’s tongue dart out between her lips. When she met Cara’s eyes again, she knew she’d been caught. Nothing escaped the Mord-Sith’s attention. The corners of Cara’s eyes turned up in a smirk.

“Shut up,” Kahlan muttered. She didn’t even care that she’d been caught—they’d beaten her repressed affections over the head so many times in the past few days it was old news. Bags, she’d even managed to convince herself today that she was going to do something about it. She was more irritated that Cara thought Kahlan looking meant Cara had won the argument. Stubbornly, Kahlan lowered herself to a sitting position.

“I know why you got mad. Richard told me what they did to you when you were little.” Out of the corner of her eye, Kahlan saw Cara stiffen. She half expected Cara to storm off into the woods again, and when she spoke, the Mord-Sith’s voice was laced with fury.

“Being told is not the same thing as knowing.”

Kahlan nodded. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I couldn’t imagine…” she trailed off, trying to picture how scared she would have felt as a young girl if she’d been taken from her parents, just as she’d tried to do countless times over the course of the day. Each time she couldn’t comprehend the fear, and each time her opinion of Cara increased.

Cara’s leathers shifted as she shifted positions. “I don’t want your pity,” she said stonily.

Kahlan twisted at the waist, meeting Cara’s guarded gaze. “I don’t pity you.”

Cara snorted.

“I don’t,” Kahlan insisted. “Not you-you. I don’t feel sorry for Cara the Mord-Sith. I feel sorry for Cara the little girl.”

Cara’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I’m sorry that there was no one to save you before Darken Rahl could hurt you,” Kahlan continued, “but I also know that you are who you are because you became a Mord-Sith.” She shook her head, suddenly frustrated with her inability to explain something that she had worked out so well in her head. “Pity would mean that who you are is not adequate, I guess.” She watched as the tension visibly left Cara’s shoulders. Cara pushed away from the tree, her eyebrows raised suggestively.

“I’m more than adequate.”

Kahlan refused to rise to the bait. She may not be able to read a Mord-Sith, but she knew when someone was attempting to change the subject. She had hit close to home then, voicing one of Cara’s own truths about her upbringing. “You are," Kahlan agreed. "I think you’re the strongest person I know.”

Cara rocked back on her heels. She stood above Kahlan, arms crossed over her chest, eyes shadowed by the curtain of blonde hair blocking the glow of the fire. “This feels like pity, Confessor.”

Kahlan shook her head. “It’s not.” She turned her head, casting her gaze back at the forest. She expected Cara to move away, to go back to leaning against the tree or even to her bedroll. When she didn’t move, Kahlan allowed her imagination to wander. Cara had been receptive to one soul-searching talk tonight. Maybe she’d be open to a second. Kahlan took a deep breath. They were alone for the most part, Richard and Zedd dead to the world. If she didn’t do this now, she wasn’t sure she’d ever do it.

Kahlan patted the ground next to her. “Will you sit?”

After a moment of stillness, Cara stepped forward and sat.

The second Cara’s bottom touched the ground, Kahlan’s heart began tripping over itself. It was one thing to plan out what she was going to say in her head, to envision the moment, it was another thing entirely to be in the moment and have the words waiting on her tongue. She was excited and she was terrified, and the emotions blended so seamlessly together Kahlan could not tell which she was experiencing more of. She snatched up a small twig and began twisting it in her hands, giving her mind something else to think about besides the confusing swirl of emotions in her gut. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Kahlan said. She dropped her voice to barely a whisper, suddenly mindful of the fact that Richard and Zedd were sleeping only a few meters away. “About what you said last night. About…itches that need to be scratched.” She glanced at Cara out the corner of her eye. Cara did not move. Kahlan snapped the twig between her hands, and the muffled snap startled her. She dropped it and held her breath, certain the sound would have roused one of the two men.

“And?” Cara prompted. Her voice was liquid in the dark, sure and possessive. She knew the conclusion Kahlan had come to and she was going to make Kahlan say it.

“And…I think you were right.”

There it was. The admission she’d been denying for almost a week. Perhaps longer if she thought honestly about her time with Cara. A truth she could have denied herself forever, if only Cara hadn’t challenged her to face it.

Cara pivoted slowly, rolling onto her knees in front of Kahlan and placing her hands on either side of Kahlan’s waist. She looked like a jungle cat on the prowl as she slunk upwards, moving her lithe body over Kahlan’s. “And you’d like me to do something about it,” Cara murmured.

Kahlan’s breath caught in her throat. The fear was gone, replaced by a heady lust that filled her mouth with cotton. She stared as Cara’s injured lips moved closer, then remembered that this was not how she had envisioned this going. She moved her head away at the last second, leaning back and buying herself time to finish her thought “No, she whispered. She could feel Cara’s hot breath washing over her neck, tickling the sensitive skin of her exposed chest. “I’d like you to let me do something.”

Cara sat back slowly, and Kahlan immediately missed the slight press of her legs and hips. She regarded Kahlan suspiciously. “This feels even more like pity.”

“It’s not.” Kahlan insisted as she sat up as well. “This is for me.”

And it was. As she’d pictured how to broach the subject with Cara again during the day, more and more Kahlan realized that her fantasies hinged on returning the favor and pleasuring Cara. She wanted to see what Cara looked like in the throes of pleasure. And, to a lesser extent, she knew it proved that she was not simply looking for a third hand once in awhile. Kahlan wanted to touch as much as she wanted to be touched, and the only way she knew to prove it was to take action.

Cara sat on her heels, her expression dark and unreadable. Kahlan but her lip, waiting for Cara’s decision. She would not force her. It was important to Kahlan to prove her intentions—she would not simply use Cara and expect the Mord-Sith to be happy with nothing in return. Kahlan herself would not be happy with a one-sided liaison. But maybe Cara was. Maybe she did not want to be touched, and Kahlan swore she would respect that.

After what seemed like an eternity, Cara sat back, her legs bent at the knees, and placed her weight on the heels of her hands. She fixed Kahlan with a penetrating stare—an agreement and a dare, all at once. Kahlan moved forward. She licked her lips nervously.

“Could you…could you close your eyes?”

Cara lifted an eyebrow. “Then who’s going to keep watch?”

Kahlan grit her teeth. “Please, Cara.” Despite her frustration, she was grateful for the sarcasm. It normalized things a bit. This was the same Cara who could be equal parts frustrating and courageous in battle, the same way she was, apparently, in bed.

With a roll of her eyes, Cara dutifully snapped her eyelids shut.

“Thank you.” Kahlan moved closer, amazed at the eagerness she felt to actually lay hands on Cara. She’d assumed she’d be nervous, and she was, but that was only a small, insignificant part of what she was feeling. Not nearly enough to make her change her mind. “And please,” Kahlan whispered. “No screaming this time.”

Cara’s teeth flashed brilliant white in the dark. “Is that the plan, Confessor? To make me want to scream?”

“I don’t really have a plan,” Kahlan admitted. She reached out and placed a hand on Cara’s thigh, just above the knee, stroking the leather. Odd that they’d been travelling together for so many weeks and she couldn’t remember ever touching Cara’s leather with the intent to memorize the feel before. It was smooth and soft—softer than she’d expected. “Am I allowed to kiss you?”

Cara shrugged. “It’s up to you.”

“It’s up to you, too,” Kahlan said. “Kissing is—“

“Fine,” Cara interrupted quietly. “It’s fine.”

Kahlan advanced slowly. She saw the lashes of Cara’s eyelids flutter as she sensed Kahlan’s proximity. Kahlan licked her lips nervously, and a second later, Cara did as well.

Cara’s lips were fuller than Kahlan’s, a fact Kahlan had been envious of more often than not. She pulled back before the kiss became anything more than a press of lips. She was holding her breath, Kahlan realized. She was holding her breath and Cara’s brow was furrowed in concentration, eyes still dutifully closed.

Kahlan slid her hand down Cara’s neck and across her shoulder, brushing her hair back and exposing the shadowed divots of her collarbone beyond the revealing cut of Cara's top. Kahlan inclined her head again, the angle forcing her to press her body more firmly into Cara’s as she gently touched her lips to Cara’s skin. She felt oddly out of control. Cara was letting her dictate everything, and yet Kahlan was moving on instinct, driven by her desire to touch everything all at once. Beneath her lips she felt Cara’s breath hitch in her chest. The acrid but oddly desirable tang of sweat hit Kahlan’s senses, dulled by the smell of worn leather and forest.

“Okay?” Kahlan whispered.

Above her, Cara exhaled heavily, the breath from her mouth ruffling Kahlan’s hair. “Okay.”

Kahlan met Cara’s lips again, and this time she did not pull away before Cara could respond. Their lips moved awkwardly but with purpose, like dancers who knew the steps but were unsure of whom exactly was in the lead. Cara took initiative, slipping her tongue past Kahlan’s lips and finding Kahlan’s to produce a sort of non-taste that set Kahlan absolutely on fire. She changed positions in response, her mouth never leaving Cara’s, so that she was straddling Cara’s waist. With the slightest forward pressure, she coaxed Cara onto her back. Cara’s hands, freed from being forced to support her weight, immediately went to Kahlan’s waist. Kahlan felt lightheaded when she finally pulled away, their lips separating with a wet pop. She was drunk on the taste of Cara. Her lips felt swollen and too hot, and they were both breathing hard. Cara’s eyes were still closed.

“Creator,” Kahlan whispered. Her voice was gravelly with lust, and Cara smiled beneath her. A real smile, not mocking or leering, and it was gone in a flash as Cara’s expression settled into something more relaxed. But Kahlan had seen it and it made the insides of her elbows tingle.

“I don’t know what to do next,” Kahlan said, and she realized she was frustrated with her lack of knowledge. She knew what she wanted to have happen: she wanted to watch as Cara came. She wanted to know if Cara stayed stoic, if she was quiet, or if she had to fight to keep from making noise. She wanted to feel it happening a split second before she saw it. She just wasn’t sure how to go about making it all happen.

“You’re killing me,” Cara groaned good-naturedly, and Kahlan kissed her lightly on the edge of the mouth.

“I’m sorry. I should have planned this out better.”

“I can…” Cara lifted her leg, pressing that familiar thigh cautiously up. Kahlan reached back and pushed her leg back to the ground.

“No,” she clarified. “For you, Cara. Tell me what to do for you.”

Cara hesitated, and for a moment Kahlan was sure she would refuse. Cara did not strike her as the type of person to submit control, let alone allow someone to watch her in a moment of absolute vulnerability. For all Kahlan knew, just letting herself be pushed to the ground may have been the limit to Cara’s tolerance. She held her breath, praying that that was not the case.

“Just… take your hand…and press,” Cara finally murmured.

Kahlan reached between them, her hand sliding to the “V” of Cara’s thighs. She pressed gently. “Like this?”

“A little lower, so that the heel—“ Cara broke off as Kahlan did as instructed. She nodded. “Right there. And if you press a little harder…and move your hand in circles…” She bit her lip as Kahlan did so, her body tensing beneath Kahlan, and Kahlan felt her own body shudder in response. Never in her wildest dreams had she envisioned the physical reaction she would have to doing this for anyone, let alone Cara. She was painfully turned on, and yet pushing Cara to release was almost as satisfying as experiencing her own climax. It seemed insane now that she’d tried to deny herself this experience, tried to convince herself that what she felt for Cara was simply the confusion generated by all Mord-Siths’ flippant approach to sex. No longer could she cling to that excuse. Cara was right: she flat out turned Kahlan on.

Beneath her, Cara’s breathing shortened to frantic, parted lip gasps. Her hips ground against Kahlan’s hand, encouraging more pressure to which Kahlan willingly obliged. In a moment of pure inspiration, she dropped her head onto Cara’s shoulder and latched her mouth onto Cara’s neck in an open mouthed kiss. A split second later, she felt Cara’s body stiffen and rise up from the forest floor. She stayed suspended for a moment, body quaking, her hips pumping against Kahlan’s hand, before she collapsed limply back to the forest floor. Cara exhaled heavily through her nose, and Kahlan felt her own heart thundering in her ears in sympathy.         

Kahlan withdrew her hand slowly. Then and only then did Cara open her eyes. Her pupils were large, almost catlike in the dim light. Kahlan traced the fragile skin beneath Cara’s eyes with her index finger.

“Thank you,” Kahlan whispered. She didn’t know if she had the words to convey to Cara what it meant to her, that the Mord-Sith had allowed her to do that. And not only do it, but do it without ridicule and an I-told-you-so attitude. The rest of the world was slowly leaking back in. She was aware again of Zedd and Richard asleep around the fire and that she was at least an hour over due waking Zedd up for the next watch. She was aware, too, that they were pushing their luck lying together on the forest floor, even though she was loathe to break whatever synchronicity she and Cara had just managed to fall into. Right now was perfect, and right now couldn’t last.

Kahlan rolled to the side and back onto her bottom, breaking their bodily connection. Cara slowly sat up next to her. As an afterthought almost, Kahlan leaned over and kissed Cara on the temple.

“I mean it, Cara. Thank you.”

Cara nodded jerkily. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse. “Anytime.”


	7. How Now

Nothing was different the next morning, and for that Cara was grateful. She was never one to feel remorse about anything she did, but she felt oddly exposed packing camp alongside Richard. She was aware that she could not look him in the eye in an irrational but sickeningly strong sense that if she did so, he could see through to her mind’s eye; see what she and Kahlan had done last night. If that was what normal people called guilt, then Cara wanted nothing to do with it.  She had nothing to feel guilty about, anyway. Kahlan had initiated the entire thing. Still, she was sure that argument would not hold up should the truth come out. The Seeker preached forgiveness, but Cara was fairly certain that that forgiveness did not extend to people who had sex with his girlfriend.

Kahlan, to Cara’s satisfaction, seemed just as on edge as Cara felt. The Confessor did well to hide her guilt, though. She was jumpy but not repentant looking, which would have surely made Richard suspicious. Instead, Richard simply asked her if she had slept well, which Kahlan admitted she had not. Her own fault, Cara thought. If she’d been permitted to return the favor, Kahlan would have slept like a baby in the aftermath of physical satiation.

In fact, being unable to reciprocate deeply bothered Cara. That was not how Mord-Sith had sex. They had sex to bring themselves pleasure, not their partner. When she’d had sex with her fellow sisters, she knew her body was a tool just the same as wrist restraints or a wooden phallus. If she was going to achieve orgasm, she was going to have to take it and take it quickly, before she fell behind and out. Kahlan had put Cara’s pleasure first. And not just first, but she’d made it the singular goal of their encounter. Simply watching Cara’s reactions couldn’t honestly have satisfied her. In Cara’s world, that wasn’t possible. Maybe Confessors were different, though, she thought as they embarked from camp. Maybe growing up and knowing that you could touch but not be touch skewed your priorities.

It had very much felt like Kahlan had done her fair share of touching before. She’d been hesitant, but Cara had expected that. There was always a learning curve with a new partner. She’d also expected a fair amount of nervousness, and there’d been none of that. Kahlan had been deliciously unconcerned with the Seeker and the Wizard’s proximity. She’d known exactly what she wanted, even if she’d been unsure about how to achieve that goal. And what she’d wanted had not included Cara touching her back.

She needed to hit something. Hitting was easy. Thinking…thinking made her head hurt.

Kahlan and Richard were holding hands in front of her. She could hear the mumble of words between them, indistinct and familiar. It was how they always walked, immersed in each other, but for some reason it only added to Cara’s feeling of frustration. She was cursed with a chaos tick Mistress Nathair had said, and right now it was in full rage beneath her diaphragm. She wanted to stroll up and burst through their linked hands like they were playing a children’s game and remind Kahlan where _that_ hand had been last night. In the dark she’d been a confused and willing participant. In the light of day she was just confused, and being confused made her want to break things until the world made sense again. She should have saved those three idiot raiders for this morning instead of taking her aggression out on them last night.  

The feeling of frustration grew as they walked until it encompassed her entire current existence. Where were they even walking to? Some ancient known location of the Stone of Tears that may or may not still be there? For all they knew it had been moved in the millennia since it had been created. It was a stupid plan and they all just kept walking on, like they expected their conjoined goodness to make everything fall into place. And here she was, following along behind because she had nothing better to do.

Hoof beats along the trail behind them interrupted Cara’s angry musings. She turned, positioning herself so that she could comfortably retaliate to any attack.  A moment later Richard was next to her, holding the Sword of Truth relaxed in one hand. It didn’t escape her notice that she and Richard formed a protective barrier in front of the Wizard and Kahlan. It was as instinctual for him to protect others as it was for Cara to meet danger head on. If Richard ever tried that protective business with her, she decided, she’d agiel him in the neck.

The horseman that barreled down on them flopped limply in the saddle, barely holding onto the saddle, let alone the reins. Cara recognized the crest of D’Hara, but any other revealing insignia was lost under stains of blood.

“Chase!” Richard exclaimed. He leapt forward, throwing his arms up to slow the horse. It slowed to a stop immediately, sides glistening with sweat and eyes rolling in exhaustion. Kahlan and Zedd brushed past her, their motions just as worried as Richard had sounded.

“Seeker,” the soldier coughed. Richard reached up and with Zedd’s help pulled the man from the saddle. They laid him gently to the ground and Kahlan immediately began unbuckling his breastplate to find the source of the blood. Cara, not knowing what else to do, took the horse’s reins in her hand.

“Glad I found you,” the man said. A captain, Cara could see now by his shoulder insignia. His voice was rattling and weak.

“Shh,” Kahlan soothed. “Quiet, Chase. Let Zedd heal you.”

The captain nodded and closed his eyes and the Wizard’s hands began to glow orange above him. Richard stood, sheathing his sword.

“You have some interesting friends, Seeker,” Cara said. She did not hide the fact that she was miffed at not being told that there were other D’Harans loyal to Richard, even if it was only the one.

“More interesting than a Mord-Sith?” Richard joined. Cara stared at him. “His name is Chase Brandstone,” Richard explained. “He’s from the Westlands, too.” As if that explained everything.

“Captain Brandstone,” Cara verified. Richard nodded. “And what is the good captain doing so far from D’Hara?”

The captain coughed. His breathing still sounded a bit reedy as he sat, but he pushed Zedd’s hands away. “The Sisters of the Dark are on your trail, Seeker. Nicci has them worked into madness. They’re hell bent on stopping you sealing the rift.”

“I’ll never understand the appeal of a world devoid of life to some people,” Zedd grumbled. Kahlan nodded in agreement.

“Is Nicci with them?” Richard demanded.

Captain Brandstone shook his head. “Too busy converting people to her cause.” He turned his attention to Zedd. “She seems convinced that the Keeper will reward her for stopping you all.”

“Idiot,” Cara snorted. Richard nodded in agreement.

“How many are behind us, Chase?”

“Seven. Plus a few D’Haran soldiers that wouldn’t see sense.” He winced at the memory that statement evoked and rolled his broad shoulders.

“Right. “ Richard rubbed his hands together decidedly. “You’re in no condition to fight. You ride ahead, we’ll deal with the Sisters—”

Captain Brandstone was shaking his head before Richard finished speaking. “They’re on your trail, Richard, but I didn’t mean they’re chasing you, exactly.”

Cara felt the glimmer of excitement she’d felt at the prospect of battle wither and die.

Richard looked an odd mixture of disgusted and confused. “Then what are they doing?”

“They’re after a compass,” Brandstone said. Next to him, Zedd stiffened.

“What?” Kahlan’s voice was wary. “Zedd, what is it?”

“There’s a compass, said to be able to guide the bearer to the Stone.”

“So what are we doing, walking around blind? Why aren’t _we_ looking for the thing?” Cara demanded. Zedd shot her a silencing glare.

“Because until now, it was largely assumed the compass was simply a legend. But if the Keeper has the Sisters looking…”

“It’s not a legend,” Richard finished. Zedd nodded, his brows knitted in thought.

“The Sisters behind you?” Brandstone said, “They’re happy with slowing you all down while the others search. They don’t need to kill you. One of them just needs to get to the compass first.”

Richard drew his shoulders back, his eyes on the trail behind them. “Then it sounds like we’re going to need a Sister to tell us what she knows about this compass.”

Cara grinned. Maybe she’d get in her fix of skull bashing after all.


	8. Head On

Cara had mixed feelings about ambushes. On the one hand, popping out of the bushes and mounting an attack felt cowardly. On the other, there were few sights as satisfying as the look on the enemy’s face when they realized they’d been caught with their pants down. Based purely on the fact that their little group was outnumbered, Cara could find little wrong with the plan tactically. They’d found a small hill five minutes further down the path that was shrouded on both sides by thick coniferous bushes. They were thick enough to conceal even the bright white of Kahlan’s dress, so the four of them hunkered down to hide while they waited for the Sisters to appear. Richard had sent Chase on ahead—a wise decision, in Cara’s opinion. She doubted both his energy and his willingness to fight his fellow D’Haran soldiers when he’d offered to stay. Richard had thanked him for the information but insisted Chase rejoin his squadron.

 And now they were sitting and waiting again.

Cara had purposefully chosen to hide next to Zedd to avoid the possibility of being alone with Kahlan on the other side of the road. Kahlan had not insinuated that she wanted to talk, but Cara knew her. She knew all of them: they never put anything to rest until they’d talked it to death. She was certain she’d not escaped some sort of emotional probing from Kahlan, but for now she was safe. She was safe from any suspicious glances, too: it made sense that she would stick close to Zedd, since he’d be the sister’s first target and she was least vulnerable to their attacks.

Zedd was bent uncomfortably next to her, his long torso forcing him to contort to avoid being poked in the eye by the bush’s branches. Cara ignored his flustered sighs, keeping her eyes fixed on the crest of the hill, an arrow strung loosely in her forest bow, another stuck into the ground next to her. The plan was to take out at least two of their pursuers—Sister or soldier—before they had a chance to mount a defense to even the odds a bit. That was the extent of Richard’s tactical ability: try not to be outnumbered. Cara drew her fingers slowly across the fletching of the arrow. Sometimes she preferred being outnumbered. Made things a bit more interesting, especially against the Sisters of the Dark, who relied so heavily on magic and put such little effort into achieving any skill with a blade.

The D’Haran soldiers might offer a bit more of a challenge, but they were Richard and Kahlan’s responsibility. Cara was to eliminate the magic users—all but one, at least. Whichever sister looked to be the most in charge she was to somehow wrangle towards Kahlan to be confessed. She would never admit it out loud, but the casual way they planned for Confession unnerved her. It was an easy way to get answers, yes. In her experience, though, some strategic touches with an agiel could achieve answers just as quickly and without the added nuisance of a witless slave to Kahlan’s will following then around. When she’d offered to torture the Sister, Richard had looked at her like she was barbaric. Kahlan had not looked at her at all—like what they were doing was any better. They’d convinced themselves that keeping the body from injury meant Kahlan’s confession kept their hands washed from guilt.

Not in Cara’s book it didn’t.

Cara hadn’t argued her point; simply offered torture and let her image as a ruthless Mord-Sith expand when Richard gave her The Look. She was not so high-minded to not consider the possibility that she was overly sensitive to confession because of how she’d been trained, so she’d let it drop. It was an argument she was never going to win, anyway. The three of them were far too wrapped up in the Greater Good line of thinking.

She heard the clank of armor before she saw the soldiers and drew the bow, the muscles in her arm as rigid as the string. Beside her, Zedd shook his hands out of his ample sleeves. Though she could not see them, she imagined Richard and Kahlan drawing their weapons as well.

Two soldiers crested the hill and Cara moved from her heels onto the balls of her feet. She waited until the Sisters of the Dark following also appeared before she let the first arrow fly, to be sure that these were indeed the soldiers they wanted.

The soldier Cara buried the first arrow in didn’t fall immediately. He stopped short and stared at his chest, and by the time his knees buckled the second arrow was firmly embedded in the throat of the sister behind him. Cara dropped the bow and burst from the bushes, a blast of Wizard’s Fire scorching the air next to her head as Zedd did his part to keep the Sisters contained. Richard was a half step behind, and when the second soldier gathered his wits and raced towards Cara with his sword drawn she deflected the blow easily and used his momentum to spin him into Richard’s path. She heard the wet sound of metal slipping into flesh and then the air was filled with furious screams and the smell of ozone being burned by conjured spells. The Sisters of the Dark stepped together quickly and the four D’Haran soldiers that had been protecting the rear burst forward. Cara ignored them, trusting that Richard and Kahlan would do their part to draw the soldier’s attention. She knew the fact that she was Mord-Sith would play a part, as the soldiers knew better than most to avoid the women in blood red leather.

A dacra was thrown at Cara and she redirected it easily back into the chest of the sister that had foolishly thrown it. Two down, five to go.

The Sisters began to break apart as Cara advanced, straying from their customary straight line and scuttling side to side in an oddly crablike motion. They threw spells at her haphazardly, and Cara paid them no more attention than she would buzzing flies. A tall woman, her veil snapping as she whirled, met Cara’s agiels with daggers of her own. Cara pushed forward, forcing the woman to back pedal as she hacked and stabbed with her blunt agiels. Despite her snarling enthusiasm, the Sister was obviously not well trained—a result of focusing too much on magic and not enough on hand to hand, Cara smirked—and after only a few exchanged blows Cara spotted an opening. She drove her left agiel into the woman’s breastbone. The Sister let loose one hoarse scream before the pain stopped her heart and she fell to the ground.

The next closest Sister began hurling spells at Cara. Cara’s subtractive magic killed the Sister’s before it got close enough to even ruffle the hair on her head, and the woman let out a shriek when she realized her spells were having no effect. She was probably new, Cara decided as she moved within striking distance, to be trying to hit a Mord-Sith. Her estimation of the woman changed abruptly when the ground beneath her feet exploded in a flash of orange light and dirt. Cara felt herself go airborne momentarily before gravity abruptly called her down. She landed heavily on her back. Her head snapped back and hit the ground violently, the force of which created a smattering of white dots across her vision. The limp weight of her legs flipped her head over heels and onto her stomach. Dirt rained down—she could feel it landing in her hair and creeping down her back. Her ears were ringing. She coughed once, then twice. She was unbalanced and confused, her head spinning, and she wasn’t sure if she was entirely in one piece. Her right hand was not tingling with the pain of an agiel, and Cara lifted her head from the ground to verify that her hand was indeed still intact. She’d dropped the agiel when she’d been blasted into the air.

She spotted it lying a few feet away and pushed herself to her hands and knees. She felt shaky and weak and shaking her head to snap herself out of it only added to her balance issues. Somewhere to her right she heard Kahlan scream her name. A moment later a D’Haran soldier appeared on the ground next to her with a heavy thump. His eyes were open and a slow trickle of blood wormed its way out of his mouth. One of Kahlan’s daggers was stuck between his shoulder blades. Cara plucked the dagger from the man’s back and staggered to her feet. She was disoriented from the blast, awareness returning sluggishly. She hadn’t landed where her brain told her she should be—in fact she was several feet further away, on the outskirts of the battle. The remaining sisters had engaged Zedd in a battle, and the old wizard was furiously deflecting blasts of green and blue that snapped through the air. Cara mentally shook herself, snapping back into battle mode. With a quick overhand throw she sent Kahlan’s dagger back into the chest of a soldier who was about to take advantage of the fact that Kahlan was preoccupied with confessing the last of his mates. Richard skidded past, called Cara’s name, and with a smooth flip of the tip of his sword sent her agiel spinning lazily through the air back to her. Cara caught it smoothly on the run.

All but one of the remaining Sisters turned their attention on Cara and Richard as they approached. The one that chose to remain engaged with Zedd must count herself the strongest and, by association, the leader, Cara concluded. She dodged a dacra thrown in panic and dove immediately into a forward roll, avoiding another explosion at her feet. She came to a rest at the foot of a sister who found herself jabbed painfully with twin agiels to the abdomen. Cara held them steady as the woman screamed above her. Sparks rained across her vision as the woman attempted to blast her away, her magic having no effect except to provide a dying light show. A concussive wave that Cara heard but did not feel sent the leader of the sisters staggering. Cara stood quickly and raced into Zedd’s line of fire before he could toss out a final fireball. This was the one they needed alive.

“Kahlan!” Cara shouted. “Her!”

The woman turned at the sound of Cara’s voice. He blood red veil was askew, and her pupils were small with fear. Cara prodded her with an agiel once, quickly, forcing the Sister to her knees. Only when Kahlan appeared next to her did Cara realize how still their little battleground had become. Every D’Haran and every Sister lay dead, save this woman.

The same idea must have occurred to the Sister. With a violent thrashing motion she produced a long, thin dagger from the recesses of her robes. Next to her, Kahlan inhaled sharply, but Cara had anticipated this exact response. She cracked her agiel down on the woman’s wrist as she lunged forward. The Sister’s war cry broke off into a pained scream as the fragile bones in her hand broke. The knife fell to the ground harmlessly. Quickly, almost violently, Kahlan’s arm reached for the woman’s neck.

The woman lifted her head under Kahlan’s grip, and Cara saw her tongue working furiously in the corner of her mouth.

“No!” Cara punched the woman hard in the jaw, snapping her head back, jerking her neck from Kahlan’s grip. The woman began coughing and Cara swore. She grabbed the Sister by the face and examined her mouth, only half aware of Kahlan’s confused eyes following her movements.

There was no acrid smell of sulfur clinging to the woman’s gums. Cara dropped her hand, disgusted both with herself for not realizing sooner and with the woman for taking the coward’s way out.

“She swallowed a capsule of poison,” she informed Kahlan. “It didn’t break in her mouth. You have maybe thirty ticks before it dissolves in her stomach.”

In response, Kahlan wrapped her hand around the woman’s neck. She ducked her head so that her eyes met the woman’s kneeling before her. Inky black tendrils unraveled from Kahlan’s pupils, then the black congealed and covered her irises. Cara felt the air change. It became heavier, thick with magic her subtractive magic could not repel. The Sister’s eyes blacked over and a look of total devotion washed over her face. Cara took an unconscious step back even as Kahlan completed the confession, her Mord-Sith training dictating she remove herself from danger. Kahlan sagged back into Richard’s waiting arms. Kahlan clung to him gratefully, her face pale and drawn, but she took Cara’s advice to heart and did not wait to catch her breath before questioning the woman.

“Command me, Confessor,” the Sister pleaded.

“Where is the compass that leads to the Stone of Tears?”

“In Dunarth. In a tomb,” the Sister answered eagerly.

“Whose tomb?” Richard demanded.

The woman looked to Kahlan. “Answer him,” Kahlan instructed.

“A wizard’s. I’m sorry, mistress, I don’t…” the woman trailed off, a grimace of pain staining her features. She clutched at her stomach. “I don’t know his name,” she gasped.

“Quickly,” Cara warned.

“Can we beat the Sister’s of the Dark to Dunarth?” Kahlan’s voice rose with urgency.

“Maybe…” the woman was shaking. A line of sweat appeared on her upper lip as she struggled to speak. “If you…hurry…it will be close.”

“What does Nicci plan to do with it if she gets the compass?”

“She—“ The woman’s answer died on her lips as convulsions wracked her body. Richard and Kahlan moved away from the woman’s thrashing limbs. Cara remained where she was. The Sister’s eyes rolled back into her head and she fell heavily to the ground. Frothing spit coated her chin and neck. She spasmed twice, then fell still. Cara watched dispassionately. In her opinion, this was a better fate than living out the rest of her days as a mindless slave to the Confessor. No doubt the woman would have died protecting Kahlan sooner rather than later anyway.

Cara sheathed her agiels and glanced up. Richard had led Kahlan to sit down on a fallen log a few feet away. He was tucking her hair behind her ears and offering her a drink from his lambskin, his expression concerned.

The poor long-suffering couple. Cara toed the woman lying at her feet and caught Zedd’s eye.

“Shall we build a pyre, Wizard?”

* * *

 

The headache Cara had felt creeping—and had steadfastly ignored—roared to life when the sun hit midday. She had not realized, in the heat of battle, just how hard she had hit her head on the ground, nor how violently she had cartwheeled. Now, squinting against the painful glare of the sun, her pack digging into the tense muscles of lining her neck and the base of her skull, Cara was all too aware of the knock she had taken. She discreetly squeezed the back of her neck, trying to rub at least a little of the pain away, but to no avail. She’d stubbornly decided not to mention it to Zedd, and now she was resigned to live with her stupidity. Doubly stupid, actually, for being hurt in the first place. How many times had Mistress Nathair told her that impervious to magic did not mean a wizard could not still drop a rock on her skull? Certainly enough times to know better than to be cocky around magic wielders. She would take the pain as punishment and hopefully she’d learned her lesson.

Cara dropped her head forward, the weight of her head stretching her tense neck muscles. Her hair served as a curtain against the glaring sun. They’d picked up the pace, moving southwest toward Dunarth and into the flat plains of the southern farmlands. Which meant, in addition to sunlight battering her sensitive eyes, no more forest shade to keep her from sweating incessantly beneath her leathers. The skintight leather was fine for the People’s Palace, with its temperate climate and the constant winds blowing down the nearby mountain range. But even when it had been unbearably hot during dry spells in the summer, the Mord-Sith weren’t restricted to wearing their battle leathers every day. They had looser brown leathers, light woven shirts…Cara’s ego dictated she not wear anything other than her red leathers after her betrayal, another decision that she was cursing herself for. It would not have been difficult or expensive to buy at least a loose shirt on their travels. And to top it all off there was the dirt that had crept into her clothes when she’d been blasted off her feet. With every step she could feel it grating and scratching, working its way into uncomfortable crevices and making her misery complete.

She was so wrapped up in berating herself and revisiting her physical woes that she did not notice Kahlan dropping back to walk next to her until Kahlan called her name.

Cara looked up quickly, fighting the spike of pain through her head when she did so. “What?”

Kahlan’s forehead was creased with concern. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Cara replied shortly.

“You’re sure?” Kahlan gestured ahead, towards Richard and Zedd. “You’ve been falling behind.”

“I’m not falling behind,” Cara denied, though it was a weak argument at best. She had most definitely fallen off their brisk pace.

Kahlan did not call her out on it. “You’re not hurt?”

“No.” It was good Confessors could not read Mord-Sith, Cara decided. Kahlan would probably be offended at how often she was lied to. She let her head fall forward again, the weight of her head a blessed pull on her neck.

Kahlan was silent for a few steps. Then: “Do you want to talk about it?”

Cara groaned. She could not do this right now. Not when the ground was blurry in front of her and her stomach was fluttering with nausea. “No, Confessor, I really do not want to talk about it.” Any other time she might have relished the chance to push Kahlan’s buttons. Her head was dictating things now, though, and her head was strictly against opening and closing her jaw.

“I appreciate you…you know. Letting me kind of figure things out last night, I guess. And for stopping that sister from stabbing me this morning.”

Cara grunted in response.

“You fell very gracefully, too,” Kahlan said. “I didn’t know Mord-Sith were such acrobats.”

“Okay,” Cara forced out.

Kahlan stopped her with a firm hand on her arm. “Okay?” she repeated. She turned Cara around to face her. “You are too hurt,” Kahlan accused. “No way you let me just get away with saying something like that.”

“I’m not—“ Cara lifted her head and swore. Kahlan’s back was to the sun. The blinding light pierced Cara’s skull and set the pounding behind her eyes off with vigor. She lifted a hand to her forehead, pinching her temples.

“What is it?” Kahlan prodded. “What’s wrong?”

Cara exhaled roughly, frustrated and in pain.

“You hit your head,” Kahlan deduced in a moment of inspiration. “When that sister sent you flying, you hit your head.” She pulled Cara’s hand away from her face, replacing it with both of her own to keep Cara from turning away.

“Look at me,” Kahlan insisted gently.

Cara twisted her head, her eyes clenched shut. “Sun,” she said by way of excuse.

Kahlan pivoted until they had moved in a half circle. “Now look,” she said.

Cara opened her eyelids obediently in the smallest crack manageable. Kahlan’s ocean blue eyes filled her vision. Twin vertical lines of worry marred her brow. Kahlan gently brushed the fragile skin beneath Cara’s eyes in an action that was startling familiar and oddly erotic, given that it was a repeat of how Kahlan had ended their activities the night before. There was a sharp pang in her gut, like a spark of static against a doorknob. Cara’s eyes slipped shut. She didn’t care that she probably looked ridiculously weak. The pain in her head was all consuming. She was aware that she was acting out of character, but more important was the hammer slamming incessantly against her skull. She hurt and trying to pretend she didn’t was a waste of precious energy.

“Open all the way,” Kahlan encouraged gently.

Cara forced her eyes open.

Kahlan clucked her tongue sympathetically. “Oh, Cara.”

Cara considered for the briefest moment telling Kahlan that she was fine, then Kahlan applied gently pressure to the area just above her temples and Cara abandoned all pretense of toughing it out. She closed her eyes again and let out a quiet noise of gratitude.

Kahlan dropped her hands. “Richard,” she called. “Zedd.”

Cara let out a dejected breath. It would be too much to ask to allow her to suffer in silence.

“What is it?” Richard said.

Cara set her feet and pulled her shoulders back in an effort to show that Kahlan’s fears were ungrounded. She did not get hurt. She’d pushed through blood and broken bone before. A crack on the head was not going to stop her.

“Cara’s hurt,” Kahlan replied as Richard and Zedd approached. Their cheeks were flushed with the effort of walking faster than the normal pace. Cara saw Richard eyeing her questioningly, as if looking for a gaping wound he had missed.

“Where?” he said.

“When that Sister of the Dark sent her flying she hit her head,” Kahlan explained, evidently noticing Richard’s confusion as well. “She has a headache and her eyes won’t focus.”

Zedd moved closer to inspect, his long face drawn into a frown of concentration. His thin fingers skimmed over and around Cara’s head, and she had the unsettling sensation that Zedd was looking straight through her skull to where the pain had taken root.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Richard’s tone was not condescending. In fact, he sounded hurt that Cara had not mentioned it sooner. Wasn’t it obvious why she hadn’t said anything? They needed to move quickly and it was her own fault she was hurt. Her being injured—and injured in a way that did not impede her ability to walk—should not be a reason to hold them up.

“It didn’t hurt earlier,” Cara said instead.

Richard looked unconvinced, but Zedd stepped away, shaking his head. “You certainly had your brain knocked about today.”

“Can you fix it?” Kahlan asked.

“I can help with the tightness in the muscles, but the head…” Zedd sighed. “It’s not the same as healing a cut. The brain is too complex for magic to heal. I’m afraid this is one of the rare situations where it’s safer for the injury to heal on its own.”

“What about taking something for the pain?” Richard offered.

Under normal circumstances, Cara would have scoffed. She could handle pain. Before today she’d considered herself uniquely capable of withstanding, accepting, and refocusing the discomfort of pain. This was something she’d never experienced before, though. This pounding made it impossible to focus on anything more than the simplest of thoughts and actions.

“There are several herbs and potions that would help,” Zedd said. “But I’m afraid…”

“We don’t have any,” Kahlan finished. She dragged a hand down her face in frustrated acceptance.

“Correct.”

“I’ll be fine,” Cara broke in, though her argument was not so much based on confidence in her stamina as it was on her desire to stop the three of them talking. “I’ve made it this far.”

“Extremely slowly,” Kahlan pointed out. Cara scowled at her. “Admit it, Cara. You’d rather lie down and sleep than keep walking for the rest of the day.”

That was certainly not something Cara was going to admit. She disguised a pained squint as a glare and remained silent.

Zedd evidently did not need her input to draw his own diagnosis.

“She really should lie down. Though time is of the essence.” Zedd and Kahlan both looked to Richard. He ran a hand through his thick hair with a sigh, obviously conflicted.

“I’ll stay with Cara,” Kahlan said, her tone confident and decisive. “You and Zedd go ahead. We’ll stop here for the rest of the day and catch you up in Dunarth.” Apparently Cara had no more say than a pack animal.

Richard looked unconvinced. “I don’t like splitting up,” he said slowly.

“Neither do I.” Kahlan stepped forward and took Richard’s hands in hers. Unconsciously, Richard began rubbing Kahlan’s knuckles with his thumbs as he considered the suggestion. Cara dropped her head, creating a curtain of hair. A decision would be made regardless of her input. Better to take this opportunity to rest her brain.

“Zedd could stay with Cara,” Richard countered. “He knows how to help her.”

“Nothing magical,” Kahlan pointed out. “I can keep her company just as easily as Zedd.”

Zedd cleared his throat. “If I might add another point…if this tomb is really a wizard’s tomb then there’s a high probability you’ll need my help retrieving the compass.”

Richard sighed.

“We’d only be a half day behind,” Kahlan said. “You could meet us on the road.”

“Alright,” Richard conceded. “Stay with Cara. Zedd and I will get the compass.”

Cara did her best to look affronted. She knew she was doing a poor job of it when both Richard and Zedd squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before they turned to leave, Richard leaning in for one last kiss from Kahlan and a promise to see her soon. Then the Wizard and the Seeker turned and set off again towards Dunarth.

Kahlan turned to Cara once Richard and Zedd had moved out of shouting distance. “I think you should sit down,” she said.

Cara, too drained to even play at defiance, did exactly as she was told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, but I promise it was pre-planned as a result of a jam-packed holiday week and is not at all indicative of me falling off the pace of updating. Starting today I will be back to adding chapters several times a week.


	9. My Stress Mistress

Kahlan had expected some resistance from Cara when it came to letting someone care for her. What she was not prepared for was Cara’s attitude to slowly regress into that of a surly, exhausted toddler.

Kahlan had sat next to Cara on the road, shredding bits of grass while Cara stared blankly at her own feet. When Kahlan gently suggested they find a suitable place to set up camp where Cara could lie down, Cara had scowled and blown frustrated breaths through clenched teeth until Kahlan decided to find a spot on her own. When she’d returned, Cara was lying on her back in the middle of the road, her head on her pack, dead asleep. She’d groaned and twitched irritably at Kahlan’s attempts to rouse her, then she’d rolled to her feet and dragged her heels down the path towards Cara only knew where. Kahlan had finally managed to wrangle Cara to the flattest, softest bunch of grass she’d been able to find (“I can walk, you don’t have to hold my hand!”) only to have Cara drop face first to the ground without even an arm to separate her cheek from the ground.

Kahlan shook her shoulder gently.

“Don’t. M’sleeping,” came Cara’s muffled response.

“Cara, you need to eat.”

“I’ll puke.”

“Zedd said you had to eat.”

Kahlan could only make out Zedd’s name from Cara’s answer, but she was fairly certain it had been preceded by an expletive. She could tell by the rise and fall of Cara’s back and the short sound of her exhalations that she was already beginning to nod off.

“At least take your boots off,” Kahlan said.

Cara did not move.

_Amazing_ , Kahlan thought to herself, shaking her head, here Cara lay, too out of it to even take her boots off, yet she’d been determined to drag herself all the way to Dunarth rather than admit she was hurt.

Kahlan knelt behind Cara and lifted a limp leg, unlacing Cara’s boots herself. If she needed further evidence of Cara’s exhaustion, the fact that she did not even respond to her boots being tugged off. She was normally so attuned to possible dangers while she slept that even the shifting of the logs on the fire would cause her to stir.

She did not move once, not even to shift positions, the entire time that Kahlan set up camp. Since they were lying in the open, she erected the waterproof tarpaulin over Cara. Summer storms could come on with very little warning in the south, and she’d rather not have to struggle in the dark if raindrops should wake her up during the night.

There was little she could do for firewood, save collect dried horse droppings along the road. Kahlan poked them with a stick to make sure she didn’t accidentally pick up anything fresh and tried very hard not to think about what she was putting in the folds of her white dress. She had no idea how much manure it would take to keep the fire lit through the night, but after four trips Kahlan decided that what they had would have to do. She scrubbed her hands furiously with water from her lambskin and her bathing soap, and still Cara did not stir.

With a sigh, Kahlan leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees, considering the woman lying before her. She knew that the last thing any of them wanted to do was slow down the quest for the Stone of Tears. Even a day’s delay might mean the difference between the Keeper winning and the Keeper being defeated. She was disappointed that Cara had not at least said she didn’t feel well—not in Cara, but in herself and the others. It was easy to pass off Cara’s stubbornness as exactly that, but Kahlan was becoming less and less confident that her stubbornness was just as much a product of their inability to take Cara into consideration as anything other than an indomitable Mord-Sith. If it had been herself that was sent cartwheeling through the air, neither Richard nor Zedd would have taken her simply rejoining the battle as a sign that she was perfectly fine. They would have fawned over her, made her sit and relax, and they certainly would not have taken her insistence that she was fine as the truth. She couldn’t remember any of them asking Cara if she was alright that morning.

Including herself.

Kahlan dragged a hand through her hair. She should have found the opportunity to ask Cara that exact question at least twice. Once before they packed up camp, once after their little battle. She’d convinced herself during the night that that wasn’t a question Cara wanted to hear, nor was it a question that would get her any points with the Mord-Sith. Better to play the whole situation off like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. She’d tried to take a page out of Cara’s book, but she had neither the conscience nor the confidence to pull it off. The truth was she couldn’t just let it drop without at least explaining herself. She knew that if she’d been in Cara’s shoes, last night would have felt like an ambush. And yes, Cara had not pushed her away or implied she wasn’t welcome. But if today had proven anything, it was that Cara would never be the first to admit she was uncomfortable or hurt or uncertain. She would continue to plod along until someone stopped her, and Kahlan could not shake the thought that there was a possibility she hadn’t given Cara the opportunity to say no. Of course, that would have required a frank and open discussion about what exactly they were doing, and Creator knew any hint of talking had Cara running in the opposite direction. Kahlan shook her head, a rue smile on her lips. Cara was so perfectly opposite from Kahlan and the rest of the Confessors. Sex for Cara seemed as natural as breathing. But talking…talking was torture. Logically, she knew Cara had been a willing participant. But unless she heard it straight from Cara, there was always going to be the seed of doubt in her mind that maybe…maybe Cara had not been willing to carry through on her dares. Equally troubling was her lack of guilt concerning Richard’s reaction should he ever find out. She was startlingly pleased with herself for actually going through with it. She knew she should feel abhorred. She’d cheated on a man she professed to love— _did_ love—and she was spending more time trying to talk herself into feeling guilty than actually feeling guilty.

Across from her, Cara suddenly lifted her head and stared straight ahead, her eyes slack with sleep.

“My arms are asleep,” she announced severely. With an awkward wiggle she managed to extricate her arms from beneath her body. Then as quickly as she’d woken—if indeed she hadn’t just been talking in her sleep—Cara dropped back to sleep.

Kahlan smiled, imagining Cara’s response if Kahlan told her she talked in her sleep. No doubt Cara would deny it and then fashion some sort of muzzle to wear at night to prevent it from ever happening again.

She lay back against her pack, picking idly at the tall grass surrounding them. There’d not been much time to just sit and think in the past weeks, and now that she was sitting still, a million thoughts were clamoring for her attention. There was this new weird thing with Cara that had come out of nowhere, there was the old thing with Richard that just made her feel worse and worse about herself, there was whatever came after they finished with the Stone of Tears and her future as a Confessor…

Kahlan sighed, dropping her arms spread eagle away from her body. Maybe this thing with Cara was just a distraction to keep her from thinking about all of the other stuff. Creator knew it had occupied her thoughts for the past week and a half.

She glanced across to where Cara was sleeping. The Mord-Sith’s face was relaxed and worry free.

Kahlan wished her own problems could be solved with a nap.  

* * *

 

Cara awoke shortly after Kahlan started their small fire for the night with a cough and a complaint.

“Stinks,” Cara said, her eyes drifting open and shut lazily, as if she was trying to decide if she actually wanted to wake up.

“Because it’s poo.”

If Kahlan’s response surprised Cara, her face didn’t show it. She still looked a little confused, though that could just as easily have been the effect of waking and not so much the head injury. After a few minutes of starting into the small flame, Cara pushed herself slowly to a sitting position. She teetered dangerously. Kahlan watched her from the corner of her eye. Zedd had not been particularly helpful when it came to non-magical treatment for Cara’s injury besides his warning to “make sure she wakes up and watch out for blurry vision”.

“How’s your head?”

“Better. I’m hungry.”

“I have some jerky and bread. Did you have the cheese, or did Zedd?”

Cara frowned. “I can check.” She twisted around, searching for her pack.

“Here.” Kahlan held it up. “I can look.”

“I’ll do it,” Cara insisted. Kahlan understood the desire—they were constantly in such close quarters that their packs were virtually the only semblance of privacy any of them had.

Kahlan tossed her the pack and Cara caught it easily. Her vision definitely didn’t seem impaired. Kahlan went back to tossing bits of dung onto the fire. Some of the fresher pieces certainly stank and she was glad they had the jerky to eat instead of cooking meat over the rancid fire. After a moment of rummaging, Cara produced a small block of cheese wrapped in wax paper and tied with string.

“Ta-da.”

“Good.” Kahlan passed Cara a small cloth holding two slices of bread and a thick piece of venison jerky. Cara used the thin string to slice herself a piece of cheese, then passed the block to Kahlan.

They sat in silence and Kahlan noted how odd it was to be eating without Zedd and Richard. There was always talk during a meal. Banter about how much Zedd had eaten, discussions about how best to continue their quest. Cara never contributed much besides the infrequent opinion on how certain plans would never work, but the silence was somewhat jarring to Kahlan’s nerves. It was all too easy for her to imagine a skirmish gone wrong one day and this being the result: her and Cara, sitting in silence, with Richard and Zedd forever gone.

She cleared her throat and she could tell from the way Cara’s body tensed that she would have preferred silence. Too bad. Kahlan had been sitting in silence all day. She needed to talk, if only to distract herself from her thoughts.

“Dunarth is supposed to be very pretty. One of the richest towns in D’Hara.”

Cara shrugged, her eyes fixed on her food.

“Have you ever been?”

“No.”

“What’s the farthest you ever traveled for Darken Rahl?”

“I don’t know.” Cara’s forehead furrowed as she stared at her feet. “Where are my boots?”

Kahlan gestured, a piece of jerky between her fingers. “I took them off so you could be comfortable.”

Cara leveled a scowl at her. “And what if we’d been attacked? How am I supposed to fight in bare feet?”

Kahlan snorted. “You’re kidding. You were so sound asleep you wouldn’t have woken up if a stampede of horses had gone by. You were not going to wake up for a fight.”

The lines in Cara’s forehead deepened. She took a violent bite out of her bread, but said nothing.

“I think, once we get to Dunarth, that will be the furthest south I’ve ever been,” Kahlan said. “Maybe not, though. I don’t know how Larric compares. If we had a map I could—“

“Why don’t you just get to the point?” Cara interrupted.

Kahlan glanced up. Cara was sitting forward slightly, her eyes narrowed. She’d placed her dinner on the ground next to her.

“Excuse me?”

“This.” Cara opened and closed her hand rapidly in the universal signal for talking. “Stop pretending you didn’t insist we stay behind so you could talk about all the places you’ve seen.”

Anger flared in the pit of Kahlan’s stomach. Her reasons for holding Cara back were entirely pure. She’d only done what was logical. Using Cara’s injury as a mask to corner the Mord-Sith into talking about the previous night had not entered into it. The idea had crossed her mind, yes, but only afterwards, when she’d been sitting alone stewing the entire day, but she’d brushed it off. It wasn’t fair to Cara to launch into the issue when she was recovering, and Kahlan had made the conscious decision to take the Mord-Sith’s feelings into consideration more, even if Cara insisted she didn’t have any.

“For your information,” Kahlan said, “that’s not at all why I wanted to stay back.” She was pleased with her ability to keep her voice under control, despite the anger building at being wrongfully accused.    

“Right.” Cara snorted derisively. “And the Keeper just wants to make the world a better place.”

“I’m being serious, Cara.”

“Oh please. I’m not an idiot.” Cara gestured to the empty grassland around them. “What better spot to discuss sordid details than out of earshot of literally everyone?”

“I can’t help that you were hurt!”

“I could have made it to Dunarth.”

“Are you serious? You practically fell asleep standing up!” Kahlan was shouting now, and Cara was looking more and more pleased with herself the more worked up she got.

“You don’t need to get upset, Confessor. Just admit that I caught you.”

“You didn’t—” Furious with both herself and Cara, Kahlan grabbed a piece of dung and flung it at Cara’s head. Cara dodged it easily. “You did not _catch_ me,” Kahlan shouted. “All I wanted to do was help! I don’t even want to talk about that! Ever!”

“Ever?” Cara repeated innocently. “But I have a little bit of a headache still, and you know what they say cures headaches…”

Kahlan stared at Cara. She didn’t know what they said about headaches, but she could guess. “Why is it so hard for you to believe someone would honestly care?” she asked finally.

Cara made a sarcastic noise with her nose. “Please.”

“No, I’m serious. Why are you so convinced that the only reason I would want to stay behind is to make sure we have our stories straight?”

Cara stared back, her full lips set in a firm line.

“I’m perfectly fine leaving last night alone. We don’t have to talk about it. But I don’t get this…” Kahlan gestured desperately, searching the air for the right words. “This flip-flopping. Last night you let me do that, but today you won’t even give me the benefit of the doubt that I might care about you beyond just sleeping with you?”

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

“Am I not allowed to be your friend?” Kahlan challenged. “Is that it? You can have sex with me but we can’t be friends?”

“A Mord-Sith and a Confessor can’t be friends.”

“We’re more than just a Mord-Sith and a Confessor, and you know it.”

“Fine.” Cara waved a hand dismissively, as if she were agreeing just for the sake of appeasing Kahlan. “We’re more. What does that have to do with anything?”

Kahlan slumped forward, frustrated with the entire conversation. “I don’t know.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to work through the myriad of thoughts and emotions whirling through her mind. She was upset that Cara was not open to the idea of friendship, but that was a new development and one she was not ready to argue against. Mostly she was upset that Cara had assumed Kahlan had an agenda when she’d offered to help. She was not that sort of person. She did not exploit other people like that.

Her worries from earlier circled back. Had coercing Cara last night been just another form of exploitation? Again she had doubts. Cara had agreed, but maybe Cara had not felt comfortable voicing her concerns.

“Last night,” Kahlan began haltingly. “Did you feel…cornered? Like you couldn’t say no?”

Cara stayed silent for so long Kahlan was convinced she had her answer. Then, her voice quiet above the fire, Cara said, “No. I could have stopped you.”

“You…you were okay with it?”

Cara shrugged. “It wasn’t what I was used to, but it was fine.”

Kahlan exhaled heavily, relief coursing through her. “Okay. Good.”

Cara was watching her curiously. “That’s what you were most worried about? If I felt forced?” Cara let loose an amused laugh. "You are so weird."

Kahlan spread her hands in response. "What? Is that not a valid concern?"

With a self-confident smirk, Cara leaned forward. “In the future, Confessor, try to remember that I am a Mord-Sith. There aren’t many things I’ll say no to.”

Kahlan narrowed her eyes sharply. “In the future?” she repeated. “Are you kidding me? We can barely handle the past two times.”

Cara wiped her hands as she stood. “Giving up already?” She tsk-ed. “And you showed such potential.” She slipped her feet into her unlaced boots before moving off into the dark, swishing through the tall grass. To relieve herself, if Kahlan had to guess.

Cara's parting words dug at her. It was a challenge, of that Kahlan was certain. Creator knew it was enticing, but still...

If there was this sort of emotional fallout every time they did something, then a physical relationship might be more than Kahlan was capable of handling.  


	10. A Haze of Clear

Kahlan was laying out her bedroll when Cara returned. She did not acknowledge the Mord-Sith’s arrival, too wrapped up in her own thoughts.  She removed her boots and set them neatly near the foot of her blanket, then crawled underneath and lay on her back. She watched the smoke from their fire drifting lazily into the night sky, orange fading slowly to grey then black and finally disappearing into the void. She listened to the quiet rustle of Cara’s leathers and blanket as she prepared to sleep as well. It was much earlier than they usually went to sleep, but Kahlan couldn’t think of anything else to do but fall asleep and spur on the arrival of the next day, when they could travel and meet up with Zedd and Richard and get back to saving the world.

The clank of metal drew her attention to Cara, and Kahlan turned her head just in time to see Cara removing her leathers, her back to Kahlan.

Kahlan turned her attention back to the sky quickly, giving Cara the privacy she so obviously did not bother with.

“You complain about me taking your boots off, but you’re going to sleep naked,” Kahlan said.

“There’s dirt all stuck in my leathers and it’s uncomfortable as piss,” Cara snapped.

“Just saying.”

“I can fight naked,” Cara said confidently. Kahlan could tell by the unmuffled sound of her voice that Cara had turned to face her. Kahlan kept her head held perfectly still, eyes fixed straight up. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out the pink blob that was Cara adjusting her bedroll until finally—thank the Creator—she too crawled under her blankets.

“Will you be able to sleep?” Kahlan ventured. “You slept all day—are you even tired?”

“I’ll sleep.”

“Okay. Good.”

Silence descended again, broken only by the gentle pop and whirr of the fire.

“When you say stuff like ‘any time’ or ‘in the future’,” Kahlan began carefully, “You say it like it’s a foregone conclusion that this stuff is going to keep on happening.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. Maybe.” Kahlan let out a breath and dropped an arm over her eyes. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. She fluctuated so severly between “never again” and “why not” that she was beginning to feel like two separate people were in her brain.

She heard the rustle of blankets as Cara shifted to face her. “Why does this bother you so much?” Cara’s tone was one of genuine curiosity. “It’s just sex.”

Kahlan threw her arms straight up. “Because it can’t just be sex.”

“Yes it can.”

“Maybe to a Mord-Sith.” The moment she said it, Kahlan wished she hadn't. She cringed inwardly, berating herself for reducing Cara once again to nothing more than a label.

“This has nothing to do with being a Mord-Sith,” Cara said sharply. “People have sex all the time, Confessor. It doesn’t matter if they’re mad or sad or just plain horny, they just do it. Just because you three are a walking prude pack doesn’t mean the rest of the world is like that.”

Kahlan glanced at Cara, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Prude pack?” she repeated.

The exposed curves of Cara’s shoulders rose towards her ears in a shrug. “You are.”

“So your solution is, what? For me to get in tune with the rest of the world and have sex with you?”

“I _am_ the most convenient of your options.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call you convenient.”

“No, I’m sure you’d rather I was a little more agreeable to your doo-gooder sensibilities,” Cara said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Richard would be most convenient for you, but since he’s the Seeker, he’s not exactly expendable if you accidentally confess someone. I am.”

Kahlan was not about to get into that argument again. As far as she could tell, Cara had solidly convinced herself that she was not worth even a fraction of the amount of attention she received from Kahlan, Richard, and Zedd. And if Kahlan had learned anything about Cara, it was that she was stubborn. Better to move on and not try to convince Cara she was much more integral to the group than what she believed. She shook her head, unable to drop the subject completely without showing some sort of disagreement for Cara’s assessment of her importance, but she did not voice her opinion. Instead, Kahlan closed her eyes. Uncertainty ripped at her insides. “I don’t even know why I’m thinking about this.”

“In my opinion there’s far too _much_ thinking going on.” Cara’s voice was bland, devoid of any suggestive overtones.

“What does that mean?”

“Why do you need a reason? Why can’t you just accept that some things will never make sense?” Kahlan turned her head an opened her eyes to find Cara had risen up on one elbow, her blanket dangerously close to falling off her upper body. “So you want to sleep with me,” Cara continued vehemently. “Big deal. Do it. Don’t think it into the ground.”

“I can’t just sleep with you,” Kahlan said, but even to her own ears she sounded uncertain, and Cara leaned forward, sensing a crack in the wall.

“Why not? You did it before.”

“Because it’s wrong!” It was the same argument Kahlan had had on repeat in her own head the entire day. “It’s supposed to be special! That’s…it’s…”

“Don’t say sacred.”

“It is!”

Cara flopped onto her back heavily with a frustrated growl. “Creator…”

“It’s something I should do with Richard, not—”

Cara flung her hands up, cutting Kahlan’s argument off. “Then do it with Richard!” she shouted.

Kahlan felt her insides twisting. It was the out she’d pushed for, and Cara had offered it at once and without any argument voiced against Richard. Except Kahlan already knew that it wasn’t enough to convince her. If it had been, she would have gone to Richard in the first placed and they wouldn't be having this conversation.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt frustrated tears pricking at her eyes. She pressed her hands into her eyes with a tortured groan. “Creator, I’m a terrible person.”

Cara interrupted Kahlan’s mental flagellation after a minute of silence. “Listen. I know you think that having sex means you’re making some…statement or promise or something else equally gross. But it doesn’t. Sex and love can be completely separate.”

Kahlan shook her head, her hands still pressed to her face as she composed herself. “I don’t think they can.”

“Kahlan, think about it. What you did last night—what I did at the spring—was there any love there?”

Kahlan thought about it, dragging her fingers down her cheeks. There’d been a fair amount of hate and anger the first time. The second time was less clear, but it had felt more like an exercise in trust than anything else more intimate.

“No,” Kahlan said quietly.

“No.” Cara’s voice was triumphant. “See? We already proved it’s possible.”

“That’s…Cara, it just…” Kahlan let out a heavy sigh. She’d come to a tentative decision, one she’d been entertaining off and on since their earlier blow up. “If we ever do this again, we need rules.”

“Rules?” Cara did not try to hide the credulity in her voice.

“Yes.” Kahlan managed to inject some of her Confessor authority into her voice. “Rules.”

“Fine. Let’s hear your rules.”

Kahlan had expected some sort of a fight. Never in a million years had she thought Cara would accept her request immediately. “I didn’t…”

“You want rules. Let’s go. Off the top of your head.”

Kahlan scrambled. There was only one thing that came to mind, and it was a subject they’d touched on before. “Number one. No hints or clues or whatever. You might think he’s too trusting to pick up on them, but sooner or later, Richard will figure it out.”

Cara snorted. “Trusting is not what I’d call it, but fine. Next.”

Kahlan hesitated. “That’s all I have so far.”

“That’s it?” Cara leered at her across the fire. “I thought I was about to be told no spanking. Lucky me.”

“Rule number two, I’m allowed to add rules later,” Kahlan added quickly.

Cara’s leer transformed into a satisfied smirk. “Fine. I have two.”

“Already?”

“Rule three,” Cara began, holding up three fingers and ignoring Kahlan’s surprise. This…” she gestured between them. “Doesn’t happen anymore. We do it, we’re done, there’s no analyzing and talking it to death afterwards. And it doesn’t matter why we’re doing it. Just have sex and leave it at that.” Cara’s voice was hard, eyes fixed on Kahlan’s. She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for a response.

“Fine.”

“Rule four.” Cara held up her pinky. “No more kissing.”

Kahlan’s head shot up, her fears from earlier rematerializing. Cara had said kissing was fine, but maybe…

“You said—”

Cara waved her off. “I know what I said. This is to reinforce rule three.”

“How?”

“You kiss Richard. Let’s not mix and mingle what you do with me and what you do with him. You love Richard, you kiss Richard.”

Kahlan bit her lip, considering. She’d enjoyed kissing Cara last night. Cara had done nothing but kiss her, and Kahlan had been so hot and bothered she almost couldn’t sleep. Unconsciously, her gaze flicked to Cara’s full lips. She swallowed. “I don’t know if I can…you know…without…”

Cara rolled her eyes. “No kissing on the mouth. Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good. I look forward to doing business with you, Confessor.” Cara rolled over, abruptly ending their conversation. There was still more Kahlan wanted to talk about, but she knew that the second she did Cara would incite the new rule three and refuse to partake.

Kahlan let out a slow breath. She didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Cara had taken her idea and run with it. A part of her had been sure Cara would scoff at the idea of rules and refuse to have any limitations placed on her, thereby convincing Kahlan to abandon her budding fantasies entirely. Oddly, she’d been relieved to hear Cara voice rule three. It was an idea she’d been struggling with the most, certain the moment she voiced it, Cara would scoff and tell her that wasn’t how it worked, that Kahlan was going to have to work out exactly why she was choosing to go down this path with Cara instead of Richard. For now, the Seeker and risk of confession excuse was good enough, though she wasn’t sure just how rock solid it would prove to be. Already she was shoving aside the little voice that was reminding her that confessing Cara meant death, confessing Richard would still leave him alive. Why was she willing to risk one and not the other?

Rules, Kahlan thought firmly. Think about more rules, not why.

If she was going to honor rule three, she might as well start now. 


	11. The Pigeon's Contribution

The sound of heavy wings beating near her head jerked Cara from a restless sleep.

She sat up quickly, confused by the grass and tarpaulin around her and the lack of trees.

“Cara Mason, some decency, please!”

Zedd’s voice shocked her into full alertness and Cara clutched her blanket to her chest. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and glanced about, expecting Richard and Zedd to be advancing on them from the road.

“Down here.”

Cara followed the sound of the voice. A large grey pigeon had settled near her hip, it’s head quirked, orange eyes examining her. It was oddly still for a pigeon, Cara noted, then the bird opened its beak and Zedd’s voice came from it’s shimmering throat.

“Good morning. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

Cara jerked, though her pride forced her to bite back the cry of surprise that threatened. She scuttled back and cleared her throat.

“Ahem. Kahlan.”

Across from her, Kahlan stirred but not did not wake. Cara was not surprised. She’d heard the Confessor tossing and turning well after they’d finished their conversation last night. Before she herself had fallen asleep, Cara had had half a mind to see exactly how serious Kahlan had been about pursuing a physical relationship by waking the Confessor up with a bit of lewdness. The appearance of the pigeon had driven any and all bawdy thoughts from Cara’s mind.

The pigeon hopped twice, launching its ample body from the ground and making its way to Kahlan. It beat its wings above Kahlan’s head and she snapped awake with a gasp. She swatted at the bird, narrowly missing knocking it silly, and Zedd’s voice chirruped “Bags!”

The bird settled back on the ground, twisting its head to glare at them both individually.

“If you’ve both gotten ahold of yourselves—“

“Zedd?” Kahlan said. Her voice was tinged with credulity, and Cara was glad that this was new for Kahlan as well, and not some well-practiced system between the three of them.

“Of course it’s me!” Zedd’s pigeon voice was a bit higher pitched then normal, the natural coo of the pigeon forcing his voice into a bit more of a throaty warble than usual.

Kahlan looked shocked, and Cara knew she herself was trying and failing to look, if not bored, then at least a little less amazed.

“How?” Kahlan seemed incapable of more than one word at a time.

Zedd fluffed his wings in a move Cara would have recognized as smug pride even on a bird. “I am a wizard, dear one. I’m capable of a bit more than parlor tricks.”

“Are you the bird?” Cara’s curiosity had finally gotten the better of her. “Can you turn back into a human, or…?”

“I’m mind riding,” Zedd explained. “I have a message for you two, then another for one of my associates to pass on. Once I’m done with that, I’ll leave the pigeon and he’ll be none the wiser for me commandeering his services.”

“Where’s your body?”

“Richard—” Zedd suddenly beat his wings once in frustration. “Never mind that! This is important, and I’ll explain everything in the message. Listen: we managed to retrieve the compass, and so far as we can tell it does point to the Stone of Tears.”

“You couldn’t wait until we got to Dunarth to tell us that?” Cara asked.

“You two aren’t going to Dunarth,” Zedd said. “You’re to wait right here until Richard gets here in a few hours with my body.”

“Why not?” Kahlan’s voice was wistful when she chimed in, and Cara knew that the dream of a possible bath with hot water had just come crashing down. She glanced at her dirt engrained leathers. She wouldn’t have minded a soak herself.

“Because it’s not just the compass the Sisters are after anymore,” Zedd said. Even in bird form, Cara could tell he was trying to be delicate. “There’s been another prophecy.”

Cara rolled her eyes.

Zedd noticed. He bobbed his head. “Whether you and I take it to heart is hardly the issue. What matters is that some people—namely the Sisters of the Dark—are very keen on it’s implications."

Cara gestured for him to continue. She understood the fervor a prophecy could whip up. Did they forget she had lived under Darken Rahl’s rule?

“The new prophecy states: so long as the Mother Confessor’s pure heart beats, the Keeper is doomed to fail.”

Silence descended. Cara found herself looking to Kahlan for a reaction, but Kahlan only blinked at Zedd as she processed the information. Zedd adjusted his wings.

“I’m on my way to ask one of my students to pass the information on to Aydindril,” he said. He hesitated. “I have no doubt the Mother Confessor will not be harmed, but Richard and I both agreed that it would be best if she knew the dangers brewing in D’Hara.”

“Of course.” Kahlan’s tone was distracted. She graced Zedd with an unconvincing smile. “Thank you for telling me, Zedd.”

The pigeon bobbed its head. “There’s one other thing.” If a pigeon’s voice box could articulate regret, Zedd was certainly using it. “We think it might be best if you stopped wearing your Confessor robes.”

Kahlan physically drew back. She inhaled sharply and her face contorted, working through several emotions in the span of a few seconds. She did not speak, only stared down at the fall of white down her body.

Cara could sympathize. Her red leathers were more than just clothing. They were a symbol of power, control, and deadly restraint. In her red leathers, she was a Mord-Sith. Whether that label technically still applied or not was not the issue. It was an attitude. A feeling of being part of something bigger than herself. There was solace and familiarity in her leathers, and she was not so naïve as to think Mord-Sith were the only ones that felt that way about their armaments. The fact that Kahlan had not readily agreed to change was proof enough she felt much the same. For her, there was more to her white dress than simply being used to cover skin.

“I’m sorry,” Zedd said into the silence. “I realize what I’m asking. But as word spreads, I doubt the Sisters will be as discerning as to ask you kindly if you’re the Mother Confessor before they try to kill you. Any Confessor will be fair game. They’ve already been spreading rumors of a reward.”

“And we have enough to deal with without bounty hunters trying to cash in,” Kahlan said. She sounded miserable. Cara shifted uncomfortably on her bedroll. Kahlan sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “Okay,” she said finally. “It’s not like I have to be wearing white to be able to confess anyway.” The raw emotion in Kahlan’s voice made Cara uncomfortable. “So we can’t go to Dunarth. How are we supposed to meet up with Richard?”

“Richard’s hitching a ride on a wagon with a merchant traveling north. He should be here a candle mark before midday.”

“And how do I get a new dress? Is Richard bringing me one?” Kahlan seemed resigned to make the change. Cara did not know if she would be so compliant so quickly were it Mord-Sith the Sisters were hunting. Her leathers might be even more of a source of pride if that were the case. A sort of beacon to draw anyone who might want to try their luck against her agiels.

An odd chuffing noise came from the pigeon. Cara craned her neck to see if it might be choking. “What are you doing?”

“Laughing,” Zedd said. He drew his small pigeon body up indignantly.

Cara lifted an eyebrow. “It sounded like a worm was trying to come back up.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kahlan hidethe beginnings of a grin behind her fingertips.

A pigeon’s eyes are not emotive, but Zedd did his best to produce a glare. “I can’t help that a pigeon doesn’t have the complexity to laugh.” He hopped in a half circle, turning his sleek grey back to Cara and effectively ignoring her completely. “The merchant he’s traveling with sells clothing, amongst other things. You’ll have your pick once he gets here. He has a nice selection. We may have to tailor whatever you choose, and obviously it won’t fit as well as your Confessor’s dress. Regardless—”

Zedd rambled on, apparently oblivious to every physical cue from Kahlan that she no longer wanted to discuss abandoning her dress and all it symbolized. Cara was not so blind, and the rising discomfort grated on her nerves. She snapped her fingers, drawing Zedd’s attention.

“A merchant is bringing her a dress? What was so funny about that?”

“Not the merchant. Richard. Can you imagine Richard picking out a dress?” Pigeon-Zedd began choking again.

Cara smiled indulgently. “No,” she said agreeably, “I would have thought he’d let you do it. You wear that pretty thing all the time.”

Zedd’s excuse for a laugh cut off abruptly. His small break clapped together twice, as if he couldn’t think of a proper response. “Those are my robes!”

Cara leaned in conspiratorially, pleased she’d managed to distract Zedd so easily and push his buttons at the same time. “And they suit you _so_ well.” She winked.

Zedd’s beak opened for a retort, and in a moment of inspiration, Cara caught hold of it with two fingers, silencing any response. Immediately, Zedd’s wings began beating drumming against the ground, throwing up a miniature dust cloud as he tried to break free. Cara glanced at Kahlan, who was doing a poor job of looking disapproving. She shook her head at Cara, biting back a laugh.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be, instead of arguing with me?” Cara said. She gathered her blanket to her chest with her free hand—Zedd had already gotten his free show for the year—then pulled Zedd’s tiny bird body into the crook of her arm and stood.

“What are you doing?” Zedd demanded.

“Giving you a boost.”

“I do not need a boost!” Zedd squirmed in her arm.

Cara hefted him. She tsk-ed “Poor choice of bird, Zedd. This pigeon is very heavy.”

Zedd cooed indignantly. “And to think, I was going to ask how you were feeling!”

“I wouldn’t recommend landing any time soon. If a fox wanted to eat you for lunch, there’d be no stopping it.”

Zedd nipped at her bare arm. “Launch me, you—”  

With a sudden heave, Cara flung his small body into the air. Zedd squawked, his wings beating unevenly, until he caught the rhythm and rose into the air, screeching curses on Cara between wing beats.

Kahlan clapped her hands encouragingly. “Be careful, Zedd!”

In moments Zedd’s small body was no bigger than a pinprick in the sky above them.

“You shouldn’t have manhandled him,” Kahlan said, but there was no real admonishment behind her words, and Cara shrugged.

“I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity.” She turned and wrapped the blanket around her neck. Far from being shy, the morning air was considerably cooler than she’d anticipated on her bare flesh. She plucked up her top, intent on turning it inside out and shaking out every last piece of dirt from the seams.

“I thought for sure you were going to go off about how you always knew a pigeon was his spirit animal.” Kahlan continued. Even with her back turned, Cara could hear the smile in her voice. “How his hair is the same color as the feathers, how they eat everything and anything…”

Cara glanced over her shoulder. Kahlan was looking at the sky in the direction Zedd had flown. She grimaced at the lost opportunity, realizing just how accurate Kahlan’s words were. “I didn’t even notice,” she admitted. “You think he’s ever going to try that trick again?”

Kahlan laughed and turned her face to Cara. She was grinning, but she shook her head. “If he does, it won’t be anywhere near you.”

“Damn. That beak thing…” Cara opened and closed her fingers, repeating the action she’d used to silence Zedd. “That has some real potential to it.”

Kahlan snorted, and Cara frowned, puzzled by what she considered an over reaction to a not-very-funny comment. Kahlan’s body shook with sudden, silent laughter. She brought a hand to her mouth, trying to compose herself enough to explain herself. “You just sat there…” she finally gasped, “And he just kept…” she moved her arms desperately in a fair imitation of Zedd’s struggle to break free. Cara's lips quirked at the memory. Kahlan was shaking, trying to control her humor. “His little eyes were so big…”

Kahlan lost the battle for control, collapsing with a wail of laughter against her bedroll. Her face was red, and Cara could see the glint of tears in her eyes as she continued to laugh, her body shaking. Kahlan’s laughter forced a single brisk exhale through the nose from Cara, which surprised her. That was the closest she’d come to honest laughing without mocking that she could remember since she was very young. She shook her head and watched Kahlan settle, not quite sure if it was remembering Zedd’s plight or the sound of Kahlan’s laughter that had drawn her response.

Kahlan wiped at her eyes with a shuddering gasp. “Oh, Creator,” she breathed. She placed her hands on her abdomen. “Oh, my stomach hurts.”

Cara shifted uncomfortably. Kahlan had not laughed at her, she’d laughed at a situation generated by Cara at Zedd’s expense. Normally she only felt so awkward when she was the butt of a joke. And normally whoever was laughing ended up on the business end of her agiel. She’d made Kahlan laugh, and never had Cara considered herself funny. She didn’t know if she was expected to keep up the humor—tell another joke at Zedd’s expense? She wasn’t used to this sort of comraderie. She knew she made Zedd laugh occasionally, but nothing this uproarious. He appreciated her sarcasm and he never bristled when a joke was made at his expense, probably because he was so old he’d heard it all before. She had never thought anything she’d do would produce honest laughter from any of them, let alone Kahlan.

“Maybe you’re hungry,” Cara finally suggested, though she felt stupid for even saying something so obviously off point.

Kahlan’s mouth was closed, so the laugh Cara’s comment produced was more a series of hums than anything else. “Maybe,” she agreed, but Cara could still hear the humor coloring her voice. After a moment, Kahlan sat up with a heavy sigh. She ran her hands through her hair and kicked her blanket off of her legs. The fire had gone out during the night, and Kahlan set to starting it again while Cara tried to push her arm through to the bottom of her pants leg to turn them inside out as well.

The silence between them wasn’t awkward, which, if Cara was honest with herself, was the last thing she’d expected after their discussion the previous night. If anything it was more relaxed and friendly than ever before, and that put her on edge. She’d thought that Kahlan would be more nervous. Hesitant to talk and even more hesitant to make eye contact. Cara frowned thoughtfully. Maybe she’d overestimated the Confessor. Or maybe the establishment of rules had sated Kahlan’s curiosity. Maybe saying out loud that she was willing to have a physical relationship with Cara had destroyed the desire, now that it was no longer something Kahlan was actively trying to deny herself.

Which was all well and good for Kahlan, if that was the case.

But Cara was still going to take her at her word.

“I hope you don’t think that I’m the type of person that would settle for platitudes,” Cara said, breaking the silence.

She heard Kahlan stop moving behind her. “What does that mean?”

“Just what I said.”

“Okay, well…I don’t.”

“Good.” Cara continued swiping at her leathers, wiping away any dirt she could feel. “Did you think of any more rules last night?”

This time the silence that stretched between them was considerably more awkward.

“Uh…no,” Kahlan finally admitted. Her voice was quiet. Cara thought she could hear a quaver, but without reading Kahlan’s body language she couldn’t say for certain.

Cara turned, leaning lazily back on one arm. She let the blanket drop from one shoulder, and from the cold air against her chest she knew it had dropped dangerously low. She saw Kahlan’s eyes flick to the exposed skin and then up again quickly, as if she’d lost a battle with herself and hoped Cara hadn’t noticed.

“Zedd said you need to lose the dress.”

Confusion flashed across Kahlan’s face. She’d apparently been expecting more rules. “So how about this,” Cara said slowly. She tilted her head, eyes raking up and down Kahlan’s body. They only had a few hours alone, after all, and if Kahlan was serious, what better way to test the waters than where they wouldn’t be interrupted? “After breakfast, I’ll help you take it off.”

Kahlan blinked. She opened and closed her mouth, looking ridiculously innocent for someone who had such a go-big-or-go-home mentality when it came to choosing her mistress. There were easier lays than a Mord-Sith.

Cara lifted an eyebrow, waiting. Time to see if Kahlan was willing to put her money where her mouth was.

Finally, Kahlan nodded. Her throat bobbed nervously and her voice was barely more than a whisper when she said, “Okay.”

The thrill of anticipation flooded Cara’s veins, and she allowed herself a predatory grin. Kahlan was doing her best to not look at her, though Cara noted her hand had already reached for the pack with their food. She did not withdraw, instead pulling the pack to her, albeit with a hint of hesitation.

Maybe Richard was onto something.

Maybe sitting around and waiting around had its advantages.


	12. Killing Time

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Not that Cara had expected Kahlan to react any differently to her insinuation about their after-breakfast activities. The silence worked to Cara’s advantage. She could plan out the encounter without interruption. For the most part she ignored Kahlan, only glancing up once in awhile to see how quickly or slowly Kahlan was eating. Too fast meant she was eager, too slow meant she was either having reservations or battling nerves. But Kahlan’s pace was focused, her face a mask of determination. Maybe she hadn’t expected Cara to throw down the gauntlet quite so quickly, but Cara was fairly certain that if she hadn’t then she’d have to wait for Kahlan to come to her, and who knew how long that would take. It would also put the power solidly in Kahlan’s hands. Cara was not necessarily against surrendering—as a Mord-Sith, one needed to be flexible in bed, both literally and figuratively—but she did not think she could sit still and keep her eyes shut for another slow experimentation session under Kahlan. Cara had her own points to prove, primarily that she was going to hold Kahlan to her word. She wasn’t one for analyzing her every desire--it was good enough for Cara to recognize that she was turned on watching the transition from mild mannered nice girl to flush faced coquette. This was not a new revelation by any means. It was one of Cara’s favorite things, watching someone peel back the mask they put on for polite company and start to absolutely revel in sex. It didn’t matter if her partner was male or female, being a part of that stripping away process was downright erotic. What surprised her most of all was that Kahlan had that mask to strip. Not that she was complaining. Kahlan was beautiful by anyone’s standards; Cara wasn’t so wrapped up in Mord-Sith versus Confessor to not acknowledge and accept that. No one else factored into it. Not Richard, not Zedd, just Kahlan and the fact that she was (while not technically available,) willing.

Cara wiped her hands on her pants more as a symbol to show she was done than to wipe away any crumbs from the dried peaches that had been their breakfast. She’d put her leathers back on once she’d wiped them free of dirt, though her top was not fastened completely. It hung loose, almost exposing her navel and offering an unobstructed view of her brown breast band. Despite her titillating proposal to Kahlan, caution still reined supreme. It was safer for her to be clothed than it was to trust Kahlan to pull her hands away in the heat of the moment. Plus, it set a reciprocating standard. If she kept her clothes on, there was little chance that they would both fall to distraction while simultaneously chasing pleasure.

Cara didn’t think she’d put so much forethought into sex before in her life.

Kahlan was watching her when Cara lifted her head, a bit of peach in her hand. Cara leaned forward. “Ready?”

Kahlan shook her head, her gaze dark. “This feels too…blunt.”

Cara frowned. “If you want romance, I told you—“

“No,” Kahlan interrupted. “That’s not what I…no.” She bit her lip. “I just mean, I don’t know if I’m the type of person who can’t not do spontaneous.”

Cara sighed. This was starting to feel like the beginnings of a serious talk or postponement, and she was strictly against both of those things. “Don’t start second guessing. Just finish your breakfast.”

Kahlan cast her one last searching glance before ducking her head and brooding over the last of her peaches.

Oddly enough, if Kahlan was being serious about the spontaneous thing, Cara could understand. She’d had a few regular, long standing rendezvous with more powerful Mord-Sith as she’d grown, and none of those interactions compared to the sudden and overwhelming arousal that came with being cornered in the hall or being pulled into an empty stable. Those moments were so rushed and frantic that she couldn’t even find a solid image to latch on to in her memory, just flashes of feverish hands and mouths, but she couldn’t deny the hungry spike in her gut every time they came to mind. But spontaneity was a luxury for those who had nothing to hide. If Kahlan was serious about keeping their relationship a secret, then every stolen moment would have to be carefully crafted so as not to arouse suspicion. May as well get used to the bluntness of a strictly scheduled sex life now.

* * *

 

Cara stood the moment Kahlan put the last bite of her breakfast into her mouth. She stretched languidly, like a cat, and Kahlan tried not to watch the play of muscles along her exposed abdomen. Her eyes went up instead, straight to Cara’s calculating gaze. She lifted an eyebrow—how could someone with such gentle arches create such a sharp, provoking angle? Kahlan swallowed, nerves crashing in her gut. She realized, too late, that she’d forgotten to sufficiently chew the food in her mouth. It scraped going down, and she coughed, tears blurring her vision as the lump moved painfully down her throat. She patted her chest and wiped at her eyes.

“You alright?” Cara had moved closer. There was a hint of a laugh in her voice.

Kahlan waved her off. “Fine,” she croaked. Her face was hot, her eyes still watering.

“Ready?” Cara said. She stepped in front of Kahlan and placed her hands on her hips.

Kahlan hesitated and then shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t just…just flip a switch and boom, ready to go.” She prayed Cara wouldn’t push. She didn’t know would happen if Cara decided she didn’t like Kahlan’s excuses, but they were legitimate. They had a few hours to spare, so quick, have sex while no one else was around? Kahlan couldn’t do it. It made her feel cheap. Her experiences with sex were limited to a few trysts in Aydindril and with Cara, but all of them had been emotionally charged. This…this felt a bit like eating when one was bored, and Kahlan didn’t like it.

Cara was watching her, her expression blank. “You’re saying you can’t just take your dress off?”

Kahlan blinked. “I…what?”

Cara gestured. “Do you want me to help you take your dress off, or do you want to do it yourself?”

“Cara, I said—“

“I heard what you said, Confessor. And I told you half a candle mark ago that I’d help you take the dress off.”

Kahlan felt her mouth opening and closing stupidly. Had she really misread the entire situation? Hadn’t Cara been implying—

Cara extended a hand. “It’ll be easier if you stand up.”

In a daze, Kahlan placed her hand in Cara’s. Cara pulled her easily to her feet, then immediately moved her hands to Kahlan’s laces.

“Just hold still.”

Kahlan was too confused to do anything other than what she’d been told. Dumbly, she watched Cara lift her hands and begin unlacing, pointedly aware of Cara’s fingers and hands moving across her bodice dispassionately. She did not linger, nor did she force tenderness into her touch. She unlaced Kahlan like a servant, quickly and efficiently, her brow wrinkled as she focused on her task. There was no leering grin, no wandering gaze. Cara’s green eyes flicked from eyehole to eyehole, and Kahlan found herself wishing that Cara would pause, or look her in the eye, or just do something that told her undressing Kahlan was stirring her lust. She stepped to the side as Kahlan’s bodice fell loose, exposing the inner curves of Kahlan’s slip.

“Can you get it over your head on your own, or do you need my help?” Cara’s voice was just as blank as her expression, and Kahlan felt her confusion warping slowly into irritation. She had not read the situation wrong. Cara had been insinuating sex over breakfast, and now she was…what? Backing down? No, worse than backing down, she was pretending that sex had never been her intention in the first place. She’d made Kahlan sit there and sweat and panic and now she was going to act like she was completely innocent, and all of Kahlan’s thoughts were the result of a one-track mind.

Not if Kahlan had anything to say about it.

“I can get it myself,” Kahlan said. She ripped the dress over her head, her anger overwhelming any hint of embarrassment at standing in only her thigh length slip. With a huff she balled the garment up and shoved it two handed at Cara’s face. Cara batted it away easily.

“And what was that for?”

“I’m not playing your stupid little games, Cara Mason.”

Cara’s bottom lip pouted out and her eyebrows drew together, as if she were completely stumped as to what Kahlan was referring.

Kahlan stepped forward. She was seething. “We both know what you meant when you said you’d help me take that off. And you made me sit here—“

“And what did I mean?” Cara interrupted. Her green eyes were glinting dangerously, her lips pulling tight against her teeth in a fair imitation of a laughing Jack grin.

Kahlan poked her hard in the chest. “I said. I’m not playing your stupid—“

Cara seized Kahlan’s arm before she could pull back and poke again. With a quick shift of her feet she slipped a leg behind Kahlan’s heels. Kahlan gasped in surprise as the move toppled them both to the ground. The familiar smirk was back on Cara’s lips. Her face was an inch from Kahlan’s. Kahlan’s surprise faded, replaced by a hot flush when she realized just how intimately Cara was pressed against her. They were chest to chest, and she could feel the heat of Cara’s exposed stomach leaking through her shift.

“Is this more what you were thinking?” Cara’s voice was a throaty purr. Kahlan felt a warm tickle starting in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed and tried to corral her rampaging heart. Cara’s right hand was running up and down her bare arm. She could feel gooseflesh starting on her arm and travelling across her chest. With an embarrassed blush Kahlan realized her nipples were stiffening as well.

“So.” Cara punctuated the word with a quick swipe of her tongue along the edge of Kahlan’s neck, and Kahlan gasped. Her body was humming with anticipation. Evidently she’d been wrong about the switch.

“The Confessor likes to be taken by surprise.” Cara sat back, straddling Kahlan’s waist. She smiled. Her teeth were brilliant white against her tan skin. “I can do that.” She reached out, trailing the very tips of her fingers across the bare skin of Kahlan’s chest, and Kahlan’s eyes fluttered shut as she fell into the sensation. The touch was gentler than she’d ever thought Cara capable of. She felt her nipples hardening again, and she opened her eyes to see if it was obvious.

From the rapt expression on Cara’s face, it was, and Kahlan felt heat growing between her thighs. Maybe Cara wasn’t as unaffected by her body as she pretended.

With steady hands Cara reached for the straps of Kahlan’s slip. Kahlan expected her to roll to the side and pull the slip over her head. Instead, Cara moved the straps down Kahlan’s shoulders to her arms and down further, until the straps were at her elbows and effectively holding her arms and hands prisoner. The fabric was tight on her arms but Kahlan was much more concerned about where Cara’s hands were going next. Kahlan was breathing hard, her lips parted slightly. Cara’s eyes had not moved from her chest, and as Kahlan watched Cara took the top edge of her slip in her fists and tugged it down agonizingly slowly, exposing Kahlan’s breasts to the morning air.

Cara’s gaze and the feather light touch of her fingers on her skin had left Kahlan burning. She wanted—no, needed—to feel something more substantial, or she’d combust in a blaze of lust. What it was exactly she was craving, she didn’t know. Not until Cara lowered her head. Kahlan felt the whisper of blonde hair against her flesh and then she cried out, arching up as Cara’s lips closed around her nipple. Her entire world revolved around the liquid heat of Cara’s mouth on her breast, the drag of her tongue. Kahlan writhed. Nothing had ever felt so good in her life, and nothing would again—until Cara lifted her head slightly and moved to the neglected nipple with a ravenous moan.

Kahlan arched her hips. She was crying out, little mewls of pleasure that she hoped articulated to Cara that she shouldn’t stop because Creator knew Kahlan couldn’t form the words. She was painfully turned on, her breath coming in short little gasps as the heat of her sex rose and rose and rose. She didn’t know if she wanted Cara to touch her or keep doing what she was doing, but the decision was settled for her when Cara shifted ever so slightly atop her. One of her leather clad thighs slipped between Kahlan’s legs, strong and sturdy and Kahlan’s hips jerked immediately to meet her.

Cara lifted her head and Kahlan met her eyes. “Pull my hair or something when you’re close,” Cara said. She was just as breathless as Kahlan, her full lips red, nostrils flared.

Kahlan nodded. A part of her was ready to tip over the edge now, to give in to the ache between her legs, but she clenched her teeth together and forced the desire back. As much as she craved release, the sensations slamming through her body were too delicious to quit. Cara’s mouth returned to her breasts. One hand pinched and tugged while her tongue licked and swirled and Kahlan bit her lip, forcing back her impending orgasm until the last possible second. Cara groaned and the vibration ripped through Kahlan’s flesh and the spike of pleasure in her sex told her she’d put it off long enough. She drove her heels into the ground, forcing herself away from Cara’s leg while at the same time reaching across her body as best she could and yanking at Cara’s hair.

Cara lifted her head without missing a beat. She dropped her hands to ground on either side of Kahlan’s shoulders and lifted up, but her thigh returned with furious intent. The sudden reprieve had taken the edge off of Kahlan’s impending pleasure, but only just. A moment later she was falling, blood rushing to her head as she arched and twisted under Cara. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, but it didn’t keep her from voicing a guttural moan. She pulsed and pulsed, her vision going fuzzy, then she collapsed just as suddenly as she’d risen, her chest shuddering, heart pounding. She met Cara’s gaze. “Still you?” she panted.

Cara’s gaze was fixed on her, a look of intense concentration warring with pleasure on her face. She nodded once. She’d reached between them to her own sex, her hand moving in rapid circles. Kahlan shrugged her strap back onto the shoulder of her right arm, freeing herself. She sat up slightly, weight resting on her left arm, and pushed Cara’s hand away.

Cara protested. “I can—“

“So can I,” Kahlan interrupted. Cara did not fight her, instead moving her hand to her own breasts and cupping them roughly. Good to know, Kahlan thought to herself as she moved her hand in an echo of Cara’s ministrations.

When Cara came, it caught Kahlan completely by surprise. She’d missed the silent cues she’d felt so clearly in the dark. Cara was completely silent. Kahlan watched in amazement as Cara’s stomach muscles clenched. She bowed forward slightly and for a moment she was completely frozen. Not a breath, not a twitch of a muscle, and then she exhaled violently and fell back on her heels. 

“Creator,” Kahlan breathed, and Cara hummed in agreement. She’d thought, in every iteration of this scenario that had played out in her mind’s eye, that she’d feel guilty and immediately think of Richard. She was half right. She felt no guilt, but she _had_ thought of Richard.

Namely, how much time they still had before he caught up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to stick with one character's point of view per chapter, at least for a little while. But I wrote the whole thing from Cara's perspective first and I absolutely hated how the second half felt. (I think it's because I like not knowing what Cara thinks during the act, because Lord knows she'd never tell anyone.;) )


	13. Treading that Fine Line

A mule pulling a cart laden with Richard, Zedd, and piles of wares belonging to the merchant driving creaked to a stop just as Kahlan’s stomach began growling for a midday snack. Richard was sitting at the very back, his legs dangling over the edge of the cart. He hopped down at once, beaming boyishly. He was so delighted to see her that Kahlan was reminded of an over eager puppy greeting its owner as he scooped her into a kiss. The kiss did not help that impression: it was enthusiastic but sloppy and just a tad wet, but his whiskers tickled and Kahlan giggled against his mouth. She marveled at her own ability to be at ease. She’d donned her dress again and she was still waiting for the guilt to hit. The longer she waited the more convinced she became that it wasn’t going to come at all. She loved Richard, and even though he was certain they could carve out a life for themselves after they were done saving the world, Kahlan was not so sure. She would always be a Confessor, and he would always be too important to risk for a moment of passion. But kissing and agreeing with Richard’s dreams had always been easier than facing reality, and so they just…didn’t. Why ruin a good thing with what-ifs? Why break his heart when they might not live to see the day when such decisions would even matter?

If the Keeper won, what would it matter that she’d slept with Cara?

Richard draped his arms around Kahlan’s waist and dropped his forehead to hers. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“And you. Any trouble in Dunarth?”

Richard shook his head. “The tomb wasn’t easy to find, but we had a little help. And once we found it, it was designed to be opened by a Seeker.”

“Who helped you?” Cara said. She sounded suspicious, and Kahlan glanced her way. She was frowning.

Richard hesitated, and Kahlan got the distinct impression that he hesitated on account of her and not out of a desire to avoid the subject. She stepped out of his embrace and Richard rubbed the back of his neck, wincing.

“Shota,” he said guiltily. 

Kahlan felt her stomach drop as equal parts anger and fear washed through her veins. “The witch?” she breathed.

Richard nodded.

“Richard…you can’t…how…” She closed her eyes and pressed her hands to her face and willed a complete sentence to form. “You can’t trust her!”

“Kahlan, she wants to defeat the Keeper just as badly as we do!” Richard said pleadingly. She could tell he did not want her to be angry with him, but she had little choice. Shota had interfered time and time again in their quest to defeat Darken Rahl, and time and time again her insistence that she was only looking out for the Seeker’s best interest turned out to be an attempt to keep Shota in a position of power, the rest of the world be damned.

“Are you even sure you have the right compass?”

“Of course!”

“It could be any old compass and you’d never be the wiser!”

Richard was shaking his head, his brown eyes large with empathy. “Kahlan, I know how you feel—“

Kahlan nearly stomped her foot. He did not know how she felt, and she would not be placated like a child.

“She’s the one who told us about the prophecy about the Confessors!”

“Of course she did!” Kahlan said. “How else to get you to trust her than to make you worry about me?!?” She was aware that her voice was an octave away from shouting, but she did not care. He didn’t see it. He never saw it, though Zedd was just at fault. They should’ve known better by now, and yet they constantly let themselves fall into the trap of thinking every woman they encountered was either a victim or a pawn, incapable of orchestrating any sort of devious plot. It had gotten them into trouble with more than just Shota. There was Denna, Nicci—

Cara cleared her throat just as Richard opened his mouth to protest. And here was exhibit A, Kahlan thought bitterly as she turned to Cara. Another woman Richard had insisted on rescuing, even though Cara was so obviously capable of handling herself. They both fell into sheepish silence when Cara glared at them, then shifted her gaze pointedly to the cart driver, who was looking for all the world like a man very interested and very terrified of his boots.

The silence was broken by Cara thumping her fist against the side of the cart. The driver jumped. His eyes were huge, and he looked like he was doing his level best to not piece together what Kahlan and Richard had let slip.

“She needs a new dress,” Cara announced, jerking her thumb in Kahlan’s direction.

The man sputtered. “I, ah, I know, uh…he said—“ He gestured towards Richard. “He told me. I’ve got—“ He twisted in the seat and began tugging at the top of the first bundle he could reach. Cara clambered up the side of the cart, pausing with one leg hooked over the side.

“Bird brain’s not awake yet,” she announced, and then dropped into the cart.

Kahlan huffed a laugh and Richard gave her a wary smile. Kahlan sighed.

“I shouldn’t have gotten into all that with someone else listening,” she said grudgingly. She didn’t expect an apology from Richard for working with Shota, instead expecting reassurances that the witch was telling the truth. She knew that in Richard’s mind he’d done nothing wrong, but she was taken aback when he nodded and abandoned the subject entirely, instead vouching for the merchant’s trustworthiness.

As if he could make such claims after riding in his cart for a few candle marks.

Kahlan rubbed the bridge of her nose, breathing through her temper. It was easy to forget that Richard was new to this world of deceit and power plays. He still took people at their word, even after being presented with mounds of evidence that showed, for the right price, most anyone would break an oath. Kahlan’s Confessor training did not allow her the luxury of naivety. She could read most anyone’s intentions, and those she couldn’t—Mord-Sith, Shota—well, those people, in her experience, were never up to any good.

Richard took her hand in his, his palm rough and calloused. She glanced up, meeting his gaze. He was the Seeker, but he was also a simple woodsman, idealistic to a fault. It was what had drawn her to him initially, but now…now it was beginning to feel childish. Like he was flatly refusing to accept that the world was more complex than he’d like it to be.

He gave her a warm smile. “Will you at least humor me and pick something out so you can blend in a little better? Never mind the prophecy, we still have the Sisters of the Dark on our trail. It might be better if we weren’t so easily recognized.”

Kahlan sighed heavily. She appreciated his concern, and he did have a point, but there was no reason to single her out as the only conspicuous one in their party. She lifted her chin, indicating the cart.

“Only if you tell Cara she has to blend in, too.”

* * *

 

Cara, unsurprisingly, was vehemently opposed to the idea that she abandon her leathers. It was a losing battle, but evidently the more Richard cajoled her to change, the more he convinced himself that his half-hearted pleas were actually legitimate.

“At least pick something out to use as a disguise,” Richard said. He gestured to the piles of clothes around them. Dresses, trousers, robes—there seemed to be an article of clothing for every occasion, from sleeping to dancing. Cara smirked at him and made no reply. She was content to let them serve as cushioning as the merchant drove his cart along the path. He’d agreed to let them ride along until Zedd woke, no doubt terrified by the implied dangers in the argument he’d overheard. He could drive them all the way to the Stone of Tears, as far as Kahlan was concerned. Their pace beat walking by a far shot. She had found an olive green dress with a black corset that Richard referred to as “modern” and Cara called “practical,” probably due to the slits up both legs that would allow her to move freely and ride a horse. She had doubts about warmth, but it did have a hood, and the material was finished with a soft waxy resin that the merchant had assured her would keep out the water. Her white dress had begun to lose its luster, anyway. It was probably better for her to fold the Confessor whites into her pack than demean the order by dragging the symbol of her membership through the mud. Literally.

“Cara, your leathers are too distinct. You need to have something to change in to, even if you only wear it when we go into town.”

“Is that an order, Seeker?” Cara drawled. She’d repeated the question several times when Richard started to sound particularly adamant. He’d withdraw quickly and promise that he would never order her to do anything, then slowly build his argument again.

Kahlan was sorry she’d broached the subject in the first place. The idea of Cara in regular clothes was intriguing, though, and she plucked at a black linen shirt, imagining the contrast of Cara’s sun bleached hair falling on the black fabric. Dark red was fine, but it didn’t really do much to pull out the color of Cara’s eyes. Kahlan studied Cara’s angry profile. Maybe a bold green. Or a combination of blue and green, like the horizon of the sea.

Cara glanced her way, no doubt looking to see if Kahlan was silently siding with one or the other. Something on her face must have given her thoughts away, because Cara’s irritated expression morphed subtly to something more playfully questioning. She lifted an eyebrow and Kahlan looked down, pressing her lips together to prevent a smile. She pulled the black shirt from the pile. “What about something like this?”

“What about it?” Cara said. She leaned back against the side of the cart, next to the entranced Zedd, and crossed her legs at the ankle. She sounded bored, but the frustration so evident in her voice when she’d been speaking to Richard was gone.

“You could wear this. As a disguise.”

“I could.” Cara gestured with her chin. “But it’s a little big.”

“It’s a man’s shirt,” Richard supplied, and Cara’s nostril’s flared. She pinched her eyes closed for a moment, as if she were dealing with a toddler. When she opened them again she fixed her gaze on Kahlan.

“You think I need a disguise, too?”

Kahlan shrugged. “You might. You never know. Your leathers are fine, but they are a little…”

“Abrasive?” Cara purred. The pit of Kahlan’s stomach dropped at the insinuation. She did her best to glare, but she could tell by the smirk on Cara’s lips that she’d done a poor job of looking angry.

“No. They’re obvious.”

Richard nodded. “They are.”

Cara’s sharp gaze flicked to Richard. “Do you know what else is obvious?” She puffed her chest and deepened her voice and said, “My name’s Richard Cypher and I’m the Seeker. Please, let me solve your insignificant squabble with my shiny sword.”

Richard reddened. “I do not do that.”

Cara rolled her eyes. Kahlan tossed a shirt at her to keep her from starting another argument in front of the merchant. At this rate, they might just be better off recruiting him to drive them the entire way. Solved the problem of whatever he might pass on to interested ears in town. Cara tossed the shirt back. “Find something that fits me.”

“Don’t you care what it looks like?” Kahlan said.

“Not particularly,” Cara said. “You’re the one who will have to look at it.” Kahlan ducked her head and hoped Richard didn’t notice Cara hadn’t pluralized that statement. Cara scooted down so that she mimicked Zedd's prone position. “Now. If you’ll both excuse me, I’m going to lie here and pretend to be asleep so that we get a free ride all the way to town.”

Zedd’s wrinkled face twitched. He slapped his hand at her and pursed his lips in a shushing motion. Cara returned the slap half-heartedly but did nothing further to reveal Zedd’s ruse to the merchant. The wizard was either too tired after his mind sharing expedition to walk, or he simply didn’t want to, and Kahlan wouldn’t fault him for that. She’d had half a day of no walking, and already she was loath to begin again. She didn’t know what her future would hold after they dealt with the tear in the Veil, but she was seriously looking forward to sitting in a very comfortable chair for a very long time.

Speaking of comfort…

“We’re sleeping at an inn tonight, right?” she asked Richard. He was searching the clothes beneath him for any sign of a shirt cut femininely. “We’re not jumping off and setting off right away, right?”

“We have the compass. I think that gives us enough of a head start. We can afford one night of relaxing.”

“Sleeping in a bed,” Cara said. “I don’t think I even remember how to conduct myself in an actual bed.”

Richard laughed in agreement. Kahlan forced a smile through gritted teeth. No doubt Cara would deny it, but she was quite sure that comment was pushing the boundaries of rule one. If Cara wasn’t careful, she was going to end up with a very, _very_ pink frock for a disguise.

* * *

 

In the end Kahlan settled on a light, cream colored linen shirt for Cara. The fabric pinched tight at the elbows and waist, but other than that it was loose and fluid looking. The neckline did not plunge the same as her leathers; the collar was more of an oval than a traditional v shape, settling just before the joint of the shoulders and exposing a fair amount of collarbone. The pants Kahlan found were sturdy and a dark blue-grey and looked to be just as skin tight as Cara’s leathers. Kahlan kept the outfit folded and under her arm until well after they’d entered the town of Newhall and bid the merchant farewell, certain that if she’d been given half a chance Cara would have chucked the clothes back into his cart, paid for or not.

 Zedd kept Cara distracted from the clothes in Kahlan’s possession as they made their way through the town, berating her for manhandling him as a pigeon while Cara feigned innocence. Newhall seemed wealthier than most other towns they’d travelled through, with a running fountain in the central square and impressive statues placed in what seemed to be completely random pedestal placement around the town.

Richard’s hand slipped into hers as they walked. It was such a familiar gesture Kahlan did not even realize they were linked until Richard pulled her up short.

Cara and Zedd continued their playful argument up the street, unaware that Kahlan and Richard were lingering. Richard’s thumb stroked her knuckles.

“Richard?”

He smiled at her crookedly. “I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I know you don’t like Shota. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Kahlan shook her head. It was over and done with. There was no point in getting worked up again, though she had half a mind to tell him that he was missing the point. “Shouldn’t have said anything” was not the same as “shouldn’t have listened to her at all,” but she was tired and his apology had been issued in earnest.

Kahlan leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “It’s alright,” she said, then realized that a kiss on the cheek was probably not intimate enough to convince him. She turned her head and kissed him on the lips. Months before his kisses had been soft and warm, his lips uncommonly full for a man. Now his beard interfered, scratching her upper lip and taking any hint of tenderness from the contact. She pulled away after a moment and Richard squeezed her hand, his eyes crinkling with a close-lipped smile and Kahlan realized that this was it. This was their relationship. Quiet kisses and handholding and arguments that could be solved with a simple apology. They could share intimate thoughts but they couldn’t _be_ intimate, and Kahlan realized she’d stumbled into the exact situation most Confessor’s found themselves in once they fell in love: taking a lover to be confessed while the person they truly loved was regulated to a life of sweet nothings and not much else, though there were some glaring differences. Number one being she couldn’t confess Cara without generating some awfully hard questions, and number two being she couldn’t tell Richard he should feel free to sleep with anyone he wanted. She knew he was dead set on her and only her, and she could only imagine the crushed look on his face if she ever told him he should lay around because Creator knew she wasn’t waiting for _him_.

They caught up with Zedd and Cara at the entrance to the local inn. A wooden sign engraved with a very large mug hung above the door, barely high enough to clear Zedd’s head.

“Guess what Zedd wants to do first,” Cara said, her tone of voice implying they wouldn’t need many guesses.

“No wisecracks,” Zedd said. “I’ve yet to eat at all today.”

Richard gestured him on. “We’ll get rooms and meet you in the bar.”

Zedd shoved his belongings into Cara’s arms, surprising her enough that she caught his bag and satchel instead of letting them fall to the ground.  He led the way through the inn’s swinging doors happily, taking a left down a hallway marked “Food and Spirits” and leaving the three of them to sort out rooms.

The innkeeper was a heavy set woman with cherub cheeks and a very high forehead. She led them up the stairs and to their rooms at a blistering pace that belied her size.

“Each room gets a key.” She handed one long brass key to Kahlan, then to Richard. “Tried to do without ‘em for awhile. People lose ‘em like you wouldn’t believe. But then we started gettin’ complaints—”

“Let me guess,” Cara cut in. “People from the bar wandered up and climbed into beds that weren’t theirs.”

The innkeeper nodded. “Yep. Jus’ safer to lock ‘em out, you know? Las’ thing I need is some pretty young thing tellin’ the mayor that some strange fella from my bar walked in and…” She gestured provocatively, and Kahlan didn’t know whether to laugh or be embarrassed.

Richard cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable. “Uh…well…I think both of these girls can handle something like that.”

Cara snorted, and Kahlan had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing when the innkeeper looked them both up and down. She did not look remotely convinced that Kahlan and Cara were capable of fighting off a mouse, let alone a staggering drunk.

Cara seemed to come to the same conclusion. “Whether we can or not isn’t an issue,” she said brusquely. “Now that you’ve given us these _lovely_ keys.”

The woman squinted at Cara, evidently not sure of what to make of Cara’s sardonic grin, at last realizing that Cara’s comment was designed to be an indirect dismissal. The innkeeper bobbed her head and sniffed. “Right. No baths in the room, so if you were lookin’ for hot water you’re gonna have to walk. There’s a public bath in town. I gots to be at the front desk, so if you’ll excuse me…”

The rooms they’d rented were on opposite sides of the hallway, and Richard’s key did not open the first door he tried.

“Would’ve been nice if she’d told us which key goes to which room,” he muttered as he opened the second door.

“Then she would have kept talking about more things I didn’t want to know,” Cara said as she stepped past him.

“She was a little…boisterous,” Richard admitted.

“A little?” Kahlan swung open the door to the second room. “Who’s sleeping where?”

A loud thump answered her, and she turned to find Cara had dumped Zedd’s belongings unceremoniously on the floor of the opposite bedroom. “Zedd’s sleeping here, and I am sleeping not with Zedd.” She brushed past Kahlan and threw her pack on the sole bed in the room.

“Aw, no,” Richard complained. “I was with him last night. You’re going to make me listen to him snore?”

“He is your grandfather,” Cara pointed out. “I should think you’d appreciate the opportunity to bond.”

Richard cast Kahlan a pleading look. She shook her head. “Nuh-uh.” She reached out and snagged Cara by the arm, linking their elbows together. She felt Cara stiffen at the unexpected touch, but Kahlan ignored it. “Girls and boys. You bond with Zedd, I’ll bond with Cara.”

Richard sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine. But I hope you both don’t get any sleep tonight. Creator knows I won’t.”

Kahlan could almost hear the stream of innuendos Cara was no doubt forming at that comment. Richard was setting her up too perfectly for Cara to stay quiet for long, which meant it was time to make themselves scarce. Kahlan pinched Cara’s arm warningly. “I’d like a bath before dinner. Cara, would you like to come with me?”

“Fine.”

Richard followed them downstairs, breaking away to join Zedd in the bar.

The moment they stepped onto the street, Cara cleared her throat and said with mock-seriousness, “Kahlan. I think you should know just how hard that was for me.”

Kahlan matched her severe tone. “Do tell.”

“I’m being very serious right now. I’ve been tortured before.”

Kahlan shot her a puzzled glance, not entirely sure anymore if Cara was joking.

“And that was just as unbearable as being tortured. If not more so.”

Kahlan grinned and bumped Cara’s shoulder. “Shut up,” she laughed.

Cara smiled and fell silent, clasping her hands behind her back. After a few steps she leaned in conspiratorially. “So. Do you think Richard _bonds_ with Zedd the same way I _bond_ with you?”

Kahlan's answer was a poke in the ribs.


	14. Remedy for the Timid

The bathhouse was fairly simple when compared to the lavishness of the bath in the People’s Palace, but Cara felt oddly at ease once they stepped into the bathing area. The setting was different but the atmosphere was the same. There were several women lounging in the large square bathing area, some wrapped in robes and dangling their feet in the water and others lying facedown on the stone with towels draped over their naked lower bodies. A few women were actually in the water, their heads just above the steaming surface, talking in small groups. Their voices echoed off of the mosaic walls, distorted by the lapping water.

Cara shed her towel as she strode towards the pool, unconcerned but aware of the attention her arrival generated. Some of the bath goers watched her openly, disapproval on their faces. Others watched her from the corner of their eyes as she descended the steps, pretending to still be deeply engaged in conversation. She was not shy about her body, an attitude she was aware often unsettled other women, but the opinion of others was not something she concerned herself with. She’d chiseled her body out of pain and dedication and she was far too proud of it to hide it just to make a bunch of dumpy housewives feel better about the fact that they ate too much bread.

The water was a few degrees shy of too hot, and Cara sank down slowly, letting her nerves adjust to the heat. Once she was neck deep she slipped away from the steps, feeling with her fingers for the submerged bench along the edge. Only when she turned and sat did she realize Kahlan was still wrapped in her towel, looking completely unsure of herself. Cara sighed and dipped under water quickly. Past experience taught her that if her hair was wet she stayed cooler longer. She wiped the water from her face when she surfaced and hooked both elbows on the edge of the pool behind her, letting her fingers trail in the water, then looked to Kahlan.

“You have to actually get in, Confessor.”

Kahlan started, her eyes darting towards the other women in the bathhouse. “I know that,” she said haughtily. Cara watched as her neck and chest flushed. “I think I’m going to just sit for a little while.”

Cara frowned. “Why?”

Kahlan fidgeted, pulling her towel tighter. “Just…because.”

“Are you shy?”

“No,” Kahlan said, but she said it far too quickly to sound convincing.

Cara rolled her eyes. Creator save her from modest women. “It’s never going to be empty. There’s always going to be people in here. Just get in.”

Still Kahlan hesitated. Cara could see her warring with herself as she chewed her bottom lip.  

“I won’t look,” Cara promised, and Kahlan huffed.

“It’s not _you_ I’m worried about.”

“So I’m allowed?”

Kahlan cast her a dark look. Cara put on her most innocent expression. Kahlan shook her head and set her jaw and stalked forward, only tossing her towel away when the water reached her hips and she could use her hands to cover her chest.

“Not like I haven’t seen those before,” Cara pointed out. Kahlan flicked a handful of water at her as she slipped around Cara, following her lead and sitting on the bench. They were more than an arm’s length away, and Cara wondered idly if it was because Kahlan thought she might get ideas if they sat too close. She’d had ideas the entire walk over, but she wasn’t much in favor of having an audience and neither of them wore a stitch of protection against confession. For now, Cara was content to bathe. She closed her eyes and let her head drop against the stone ledge. Honestly, she hadn’t done much to deserve this insatiable rake personality Kahlan seemed to have pegged her for. She could be discreet, and she didn’t need to have some raging orgy once a month to keep her appetite sated. Spirits, she’d gone weeks without before she and Kahlan had reached their agreement. She could certainly go for a few hours. She reminded herself that she didn’t care what others thought of her, but the tension she could feel emanating from Kahlan rankled her nerves. She cracked an eye and glanced at Kahlan.

“What’s your problem?”

Kahlan glanced at her quickly, then away. “Nothing.”

Cara lifted her head. “I’m not going to try anything.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

Cara let her irritation leak into her voice. “Then what’s the problem?” They’d fallen into something that felt an awful lot like camaraderie, and just as quickly they seemed to have fallen out of it. Cara had not expected it to last by any means, but Kahlan’s unpredictable flip-flopping was grating, and Cara did not handle changes well.

Kahlan bit her lip and ducked her chin. The ends of her dark hair were wet. Around her temples and atop her head it was beginning to frizz in the humidity. Her cheeks were red, probably from the heat and embarrassment in equal parts. “I’m not used to…you know. Being naked. In front of people.”

“What did you think public meant?”

“I don’t know.” Kahlan shrugged, lifting the tops of her shoulders from the water. “Stalls?”

“Then it would be private.”

“Yes, thank you for the vocabulary lesson.” Kahlan dipped under water and bobbed up again just as quickly. She pressed her fingertips to her eyes as water ran down her face, and Cara took the opportunity to watch water run down Kahlan’s neck and chest. She looked away casually as soon as Kahlan took her hands away and opened her eyes. “Were we supposed to bring our own soap?”

“I don’t know.”

“I thought you were the expert on public baths.”

Cara’s lips quirked into a suggestive smile. “I’m an expert on bathing in public. Not in public bathhouses.”

“You know more than me.” Kahlan’s tone was sulky.

“Do you not have bathhouses in Aydindril?”

Kahlan shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably. I didn’t get out much.” Kahlan  hunched her shoulders, as if guarding against further questioning. It was such a departure from her normal desire to talk about anything and everything that Cara almost didn’t let her off the hook.

She was never in the mood for a deep discussion anyway, and if Kahlan didn’t look back on her childhood fondly, well…Cara could certainly relate to that. Kahlan had no doubt been lonely as a child, secluded from other children and forced to face the reality of the world long before her peers. Cara didn’t need to have some involved conversation to understand where Kahlan was coming from; it was simply enough that Kahlan didn’t want to talk about it.

So Cara let it drop. “You get used to it, I guess.”

Kahlan’s mouth opened, then snapped closed as something behind Cara’s head drew her attention. Cara looked over her shoulder just in time to watch a group of four very naked women step into the pool behind her. She turned back to Kahlan, who still looked highly mortified, and leaned in close. “First rule of public bathing? No staring.”

Kahlan’s eyes snapped to the ceiling. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m really, really not used to seeing people naked.”

“You’ve seen me naked.”

“Not completely,” Kahlan replied. “You’re always kind of wearing clothes.”

“You just saw my ass when I got in.”

“I wasn’t looking.”

Had anyone else said that, Cara would have called her a liar. But she could honestly believe that Kahlan had looked away instead of taking her free eye full. Cara snorted. “You have more self-restraint than Zedd, then.”

Kahlan groaned. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not, no.”

They fell into silence, listening to the distorted conversations that sounded like they were taking place all around, all at once.

“Maybe we should fix that,” Cara said.

“Fix what?”

“You not seeing me naked.”

A pause. Then: “Cara Mason, if you stand up right now and embarrass me…”

“Not right now,” Cara clarified. “Sometime.”

Kahlan was quiet again, unconsciously gnawing on her bottom lip. “And I suppose this is dependent on me being naked, too?”

Cara shrugged. “Fair’s fair.”

Kahlan laughed nervously. The water around her stirred, and Cara knew she was fidgeting as she mulled it over. Really, it was not such a leap to make. Sooner or later they were going to see each other naked. Maybe this way Kahlan would be forced to think about that inevitability, and maybe she wouldn’t shy away when it actually happened.

Finally, Kahlan nodded. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “Why not?”

Cara smirked. Why not, indeed?

* * *

 

The dress Kahlan had picked out certainly suited her. Cara had had a hard enough time keeping her eyes off of Kahlan’s cleavage when her Confessor’s dress was laced almost to her throat—this new green and brown dress was cut much more provocatively, and in more ways than one. The slits up the sides offered an unobstructed view of the majority of Kahlan’s long legs, with the added benefit of Cara’s eyes not obviously wandering in an inappropriate direction. If the merchant they’d bought the dress from had stuck around, she’d have bought him a pint.

If Zedd hadn’t drunk the bar dry first, that was.

He and Richard had decided to indulge while she and Kahlan were at the bathhouse. Richard had at least tried to pace himself, while Zedd had thrown caution to the wind. When she and Kahlan returned to the bar for dinner, they’d found Richard laughing with a group of farmers and Zedd trying to explain what it was like to fly to a large man who, judging by the expression on his face, thought there was more wrong with Zedd than just drunkenness.

The boys had sobered up enough over dinner to go into detail about the recovery of the compass. Cara noticed Kahlan stiffen whenever Shota was mentioned, but no one explained to her the history there and Cara wasn’t about to interrupt and ask.

“We just go where it points? That’s it?” she asked incredulously. She held the compass in her hand, studying the runes carved into the case. The arrow swung crazily—it would only point for Richard, apparently. Lots of things she was supposed to put her life on the line for only worked for Richard.

“That’s it,” Richard agreed. He leaned back, looking very pleased with himself.

“And what if it points to a mountain?”

“We go over it.”

Cara glanced up, fixing Richard with her best are-you-dense stare. “And what if it’s pointing to inside the mountain?”

Richard frowned. “What, like a tunnel?”

“Maybe.” She handed the compass back. “What if the stone is buried? How is that thing supposed to tell us to dig?”

Richard looked perplexed, but Zedd laughed. “The Stone of Tears is an artifact from the Creator. No one _buried_ the thing!”

“The point stands, Zedd,” Kahlan chimed in. “The compass doesn’t have a light or something that tells us when we’ve found the stone.”

“It doesn’t need one,” Zedd said. Ale made him smug, Cara noticed. “The compass will lead us to the stone, and the stone is guarded by the Creator’s eldest. They’ll give it to us.”

“You hope,” Cara muttered. She hated these sorts of plans—plans that depended on other people to play roles they’d never signed up for. These guards, the Creator’s eldest. What was to say they wouldn’t refuse to hand over the stone? What obligation did they have to do so? They were guards—what if they saw Richard as a threat to the stone along the same lines as the Keeper?

Cara lifted her heavy stein and took a long drink of ale. She wasn’t used to operating with unknowns, and she didn’t like it. But she had little option—Richard was the leader of their little uninformed band, and she had to admit that more often than not his plans worked and her concerns proved to be unfounded. Mord-Sith thought twelve steps ahead, out thinking and out maneuvering their opponents, but it seemed the rest of humanity operated in the moment. As long as you held the element of surprise, the odds were in your favor. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to walk into something they weren’t prepared for—could never prepare for. It was the Keeper, after all. How could He be thwarted by a group of meddlesome humans?

Kahlan was watching her when Cara lifted her gaze from her mug. Kahlan lifted one shoulder, and Cara wasn’t sure if she was apologizing for Richard or trying to convey that Cara should just go with it. Kahlan was drinking a glass of sweet wine, and even without her comment about not getting out much in the bathhouse, Cara could tell she did not drink often. She’d been taking regular sips all night, and Cara could tell by her too-wide eyes and red cheeks that Kahlan was on the verge of being well and truly drunk without even realizing it.

“Once we find the stone,” Richard was saying, “We have to get it to the Pillars of Creation by the solstice. Otherwise…” He blew a raspberry and jerked his thumb down.

Richard was drunk too, then.

Cara wanted to ask why the solstice, why couldn’t it work any time of the year, but most of her “why” questions so far had been met with “Because Shota said so,” and her opinion of the absent witch was beginning to mirror Kahlan’s. And she was tired of listening to things she didn’t understand. Drinking and forgetting to worry about what came next for a few hours…that she could understand.

“Right, well…” she lifted her mug sarcastically. “Here’s to Shota.” 

* * *

 

Richard and Kahlan helped each other up the stairs, followed by a very unsteady Zedd. Cara brought up the rear, since she’d proven far more tolerant of spirits than the other three combined. She felt warm and her lips were buzzing, but she could walk in a straight line and make decisions like “it’s time for bed” without having to announce her departure to the entire bar, unlike a certain wizard she knew.

At the top of the stairs, Kahlan and Richard swung into the room Cara and Kahlan had claimed, and Cara quashed a twinge of…something…at the thought of being so quickly deposed. She turned and pointed Zedd into his own room when he made to follow Richard and Kahlan, then ducked her head, determined to retrieve her things, get out, and bunk with Zedd without drawing anyone’s attention.

Kahlan was sprawled on her back on the bed. Richard had fallen half on the bed, half off, his feet touching the floor and his head resting on Kahlan’s stomach. Kahlan was playing with is hair idly and Cara wished she’d kept her eyes on the floor. She was not jealous. In her opinion, these little intimacies were just about the same as Richard and Kahlan kissing. What she was was uncomfortable. She did not know what to do with quiet displays of affection. It was not a part of her carefully crafted existence, and she had no context under which to place it. It was not sex and it was not the same as friendship—it was a weird mix of both that she had never experienced, nor did she think she wanted to.

Kahlan looked up and spotted Cara. She blinked slowly, her pupils too small and her blue eyes flushed. “Richard,” she mumbled, shaking him. “Richard, you’re in Cara’s spot.”

Cara faltered. The phrasing did not help her discomfort. Did Kahlan expect her to use her as a pillow? She suddenly wished she’d not had anything to drink at all. It was clouding her mind, making her sluggish; making her normally quick and abrasive responses die in her throat.

Richard groaned and struggled to stand, Kahlan helping him along by pushing on his head. He bumped past Cara, and she turned and watched him leave the room, making sure he actually made it to his own before closing their door and turning the lock.

“I could have slept with Zedd,” Cara said. She needed to say it out loud, at least, so Kahlan knew. It was important Kahlan knew.

“Gross,” Kahlan said, and then she laughed and closed her eyes. “Spirits, Cara, I am _drunk_.”

Cara sat in the end of the bed and began unlacing her boots. Kahlan was quiet, and she was sure she’d fallen asleep until Kahlan began wiggling her foot.

“Take mine off, too?”

Cara did so, struggling to lift Kahlan’s limp leg high enough to remove the thigh-high leather boots. Kahlan watched her with eyes half-closed with alcohol and sleep. When Cara tossed the second boot to the floor, Kahlan murmured “thank you” and turned her face into the crook of her elbow. “Are you going to take your clothes off so I can see you naked?”

Cara paused. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Why not? Because I’m drunk?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m braver when I’m drunk, I think.”

“Most people are.”

Kahlan’s mouth curled into a small smile at that. “Are you ever going to wear those clothes I picked out for you?”

Cara thought about it. She laid back and blew out the candle on the nightstand, dropping the room to black. “I don’t know. Maybe,” she answered honestly, and she was surprised with herself for not saying no and stopping whatever fanciful thoughts Kahlan was currently entertaining about dressing her in something other than her leathers. A disguise made sense. But her buzzed state made her honest, with Kahlan and herself, and she knew she was just as intrigued by Kahlan’s interest to see her clad in something different as she was by the idea of a disguise. “But I can’t wear it until I have the right shoes to go with it. My boots clash.”

Kahlan giggled and rolled over, nestling herself against Cara’s side. Cara tensed, but Kahlan was evidently past caring about personal space. “Do you know what?” she mumbled. Her mouth was close to Cara’s neck, her breath hot against Cara's skin and smelling sweetly of hard berries.

Cara felt her scalp tingling pleasantly. “What?”

“You’re funny. I never realized before.”

“I’m not funny.”

“Mm-hmm.” Kahlan dropped an arm over Cara’s stomach and sighed. "And you're comfy." In a moment her breathing deepened as she succumbed to sleep, and Cara started to sit up to roll Kahlan onto her side of the bed. She paused, considering. Chances were, Kahlan would just roll over again during the night and latch on. Why go through the effort of pushing her away? What was the point? In the long run it accomplished nothing. Cara dropped back against her pillow and tried to adjust to the heavy, hot press of another body against her own.

It did not take her nearly as long as she thought it would.


	15. Furtive Departation

It was embarrassingly easy to sneak away.

They waited two days after they left Newhall before Kahlan dropped back to walk next to Cara and quietly informed her that they needed to figure out some excuse to get away. Richard had embraced the compass wholeheartedly, and they had left the well-maintained road linking villages to keep from deviating from the compass’s course, which meant they could no longer rely on the occasional overnight stay at an inn. Cara could think of several reasons to leave camp—to find fresh water, to see if there were any signs of predators or D’Harans in the area—but those were typically activities she did on her own while the other three built a fire or prepared dinner. Cara told Kahlan it might be suspicious if she volunteered to go along with her, and Kahlan had looked thoughtful.

“It’s worth a shot,” she’d said.

When they stopped for the night and Cara informed them all she was going to look for water and Kahlan said she’d go with her, that her water skin was empty and she felt bad making Cara fill it for her, neither Richard nor Zedd batted an eye.

They dropped to the forest floor in a frantic rush, all hands and lips and shaky limbs. Cara forced herself to focus on both the sounds Kahlan was making and the sounds of the forest around them, listening for the quiet steps of someone stumbling on them. They crashed clumsily over the edge of pleasure, almost too hurried and paranoid to truly enjoy the act. Under different circumstances Cara would have insisted on a second act, but as it stood she settled for simply taking the edge off. She had no reference for how long they could be gone before the boys became suspicious, so she helped Kahlan to her feet and brushed the leaves and sticks from her back. She could tell that Kahlan was less than sated as well, but she didn’t argue when Cara stepped away and said they should actually do what they’d said they would.

Richard smiled brightly when they returned and asked if they’d had any trouble.

Kahlan leaned in and kissed him. “It took awhile to find a stream that was moving quickly enough to use. Other than that, no.”

Cara wondered if all Confessors were as good at deceit as Kahlan.

* * *

 

They’d had to find someone who knew what day of the month it was.

When every day was filled with walking, it was easy to lose track of the days. They marked the passage of time with things like “two days ago we fought those D’Harans,” because the last time any of them could remember knowing what day it was was at least a month ago. It was April 21st, an isolated farmer had told them. Which meant they had fifty-three days until the solstice. Fifty-three days to find the Stone of Tears and get it to the Pillars of Creation and repair the veil.

Fifty-three days of having sex about every two days, if they kept the schedule they’d fallen into, which worked out to be twenty-six little rendezvous in the woods.

Cara had never had sex with the same person twenty-six times before. Her maximum was eight, her average was two. Twenty-six was an intimidating number, and she was somewhat convinced that she and Kahlan would grow bored with one another long before they ever got close to twenty. If they made it to the double digits she’d be surprised. Not that she was rooting for their arrangement to end—as intimidating as twenty-six was, she also saw it as a challenge. Was it actually possible to keep sex fresh and fulfilling if you were with the same person time after time? Past experiences told her no, that variety was the spice of life, but still. It would be interesting to see just how creative she and Kahlan could get.

So far they were focusing on the logistics of it all—how long they could be missing without Richard coming after them and if Kahlan volunteering to help Cara hunt or find water was an excuse that was going to hold up in the long run. Again, Cara didn’t see it happening, but every time Kahlan asked Cara if she could come along and Cara said yes, Richard positively beamed. She wondered what he imagined they were doing together—talking through feelings, no doubt, a suspicion Kahlan confirmed herself while they were re-lacing and adjusting their clothes on sex-day six.

“He thanked me earlier for accepting you.”

Cara stopped short, metal tongue of her belt hovering just above the notch.

“What?”

“While we were walking. He said he’d noticed how much effort I was putting into getting to know you and be your friend, and he appreciates it.”

“Accepting me?” Cara repeated.

“You know.” Kahlan gestured between them. She was considerably less dressed than Cara. “Mord-Sith, Confessor? We don’t exactly get along under normal circumstances.”

“Did he ask you to ‘get along’ with me?” Cara felt anger brewing, and she wasn’t entirely sure where to direct it. At Richard, for making her sound like a left-out schoolgirl? She was certainly that—she’d striven for it. She was a Sister of the Agiel who happened to travel with the Seeker, not the fourth member of Richard’s squad.

Kahlan hesitated. “He did. But when he asked, if was right after the Boxes of Orden. He wanted me to give you a chance.”

“I’d say you’ve given me more than a _chance_ ,” Cara leered, and Kahlan stopped lacing her corset to glare at her.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Flip everything around and try to make me uncomfortable to avoid having a serious conversation.”

“I don’t do that.”

Kahlan laughed hollowly and shook her head. “Now who’s lying to herself?”

Cara huffed and leaned back against a smooth birch tree. She crossed her arms over her chest, wishing her agiels were sheathed at her hips instead of lying on the ground a few feet away, where they wouldn’t accidentally brush Kahlan’s exposed skin during the act. “I’m not impossible to get along with,” she said darkly.

“No, you’re not,” Kahlan agreed. “You just want everyone to think you are.”

Kahlan had her there. It was much easier to get people to do what she wanted if they thought she was too stubborn to be reasoned with. And she’d spent years perfecting her don’t-talk-to-me scowl because honestly, most people she would rather not have to listen to.

Kahlan stood, wiping leaves from her bum. “So. Good news is, in Richard’s mind we’re out here…I don’t know. Braiding each other’s hair.”

“My hair’s not long enough for a braid yet,” Cara pointed out.

“It’s just a saying.”

“Oh.”

They stood silently for a moment, Kahlan watching her as Cara maintained careful eye contact with her boots. She didn’t know why she felt so unsettled afterwards. Kahlan was good about getting up and getting dressed and acting like nothing had happened. She didn’t get soppy or romantic like Cara had expected her to, and for some reason that made Cara uncomfortable. Like, maybe she wasn’t as good as she thought she was, if Kahlan, so obsessed with feelings and romance, found it so easy to recover, was so quick to get away. Performance anxiety had never been something Cara worried about before, and as much as she hated hearing someone say “that was great, baby,” while they wiped sweat from their bodies, she still found herself wishing for that reaction from Kahlan. Maybe Kahlan was simply following the no-talking rule, or maybe Cara was really not that impressive. If the fault lay with her, she could certainly see how that would be. She was constantly on guard against confession, doing her best to maintain a sense of distance between them at all times. Avoiding skin to skin contact, pulling away well before she probably needed to…

She knew she needed to mix things up a bit, for herself just as much as Kahlan, if she was honest.

Kahlan was eyeing her warily when she bent to retrieve her agiels. “What are you thinking about?”

Cara gestured to the forest around them. “Are we going to do this again?”

Kahlan looked taken aback. “Yes. I mean…I thought so. Do you…do you not want to?”

“I want to. I was just thinking about next time.”

Kahlan narrowed her eyes. “What about next time?”

Cara flashed her her most innocent smile. “You’ll see.”

Kahlan huffed and muttered something that sounded like “tease,” and Cara mimed buttoning her lips. Part of the fun of sex was the pleasant surprises, and she’d never been one for spoiling a surprise.

* * *

 

Cara had left camp without a word, and Kahlan had scrambled to find an excuse to chase after her through the woods. She needed a bath, she’d said, and there’d been a river winding along to their right, popping in and out of view for the past ten miles.

Zedd had staked a claim on being the next to bathe, and Kahlan had walked as briskly as she could towards the sound of the river without looking over eager. She was planning on bathing whether she found Cara or not—the persistent dampness between her legs during the day had ensured that. She had spent the past twelve hours alternating between painfully turned on as she considered what Cara had planned for her and uncomfortably wet as her thoughts shifted to other things. Cara had not helped, either. She’d winked and leered throughout the day, making sure Kahlan’s mind was on what they would be doing later as opposed to what they were doing in the moment. If Cara didn’t follow through, if she’d scampered off to the woods to hide, if this was her idea of some stupid joke, then Kahlan was going to be hard pressed not to confess her on purpose.

The river was shallow but wide, edged by tall banks that were held together by the exposed roots of bordering cedar trees. The clean scent of pine sap hung in the warm air and somewhere above the quiet gush of the river, a grasshopper was conducting its high pitched buzz for a mate. Cara was nowhere in sight. Kahlan stepped to the very edge of the riverbank. She was content to stay put and wait. She had a hunch that Cara could see her and would be tickled to watch Kahlan desperately stumbling through the forest trying to find her. Well, Kahlan had some pride left, thank you very much, and she was certain Cara knew where to find her. She bent over to unlace her boots—Richard and Zedd expected her to come back bathed, so why waste time? Her fingers pulled one bow loose and she heard the whispering scrape of feet against the scale-like Cedar leaves littering the ground. Kahlan straightened and began to turn. She caught a flash of red and blonde out the corner of her eye, and then Cara was pressed against her from behind, one strong arm pulling Kahlan back by the waist, the other cupping her left breast roughly.

Kahlan let out a quiet groan at the contact and pushed her hips back into Cara’s. Cara had been mixing a bit of aggressive possession into their encounters, and Kahlan had been presently surprised to find she enjoyed the occasional rough handling just as much as quiet, gentle sex.

“Starting without me?” Cara purred in her ear. She circled her hips, grinding against Kahlan.

“I was thinking about it.”

“And ruin the surprise?” The hand around Kahlan’s waist dropped lower, cupping her sex through her dress and undergarments. Kahlan inhaled sharply.

“Cara.”

“Mmm?”

Kahlan could feel the slightest brush of Cara’s nose and full lips against her neck as she nuzzled Kahlan’s hair out of the way. She curled her fingers and began moving her hand in slow circles. Kahlan squirmed with pleasure. She dropped her head back to rest on Cara’s shoulder.

“If this…if this isn’t the surprise…”

“It’s not.” Cara’s tone was amused.

Kahlan locked her knees, forcing herself to focus and stay standing. She was right on the edge, desperate to hold on and find out what Cara had in store for her, but she’d been turned on all day and Cara had found the exact right buttons to push days ago and she wasn’t stopping—

Kahlan curled forward with a quiet cry, her knees fighting to keep her upright, Cara’s arm tight around her waist. Kahlan’s breath shuddered in her chest as the heat drained from her head. Cara kneaded her breast, as if coaxing Kahlan through the last of her tremors.

Kahlan straightened shakily. “Sorry,” she said. Her voice was rough.

“For what?”

“I tried to make it last.”

Cara laughed against Kahlan’s neck. She opened her mouth and fixed her lips in a seal on Kahlan’s skin, her tongue flicking in light circles that made the hollow of Kahlan’s neck buzz. Kahlan’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Or you can just keep going,” Kahlan breathed. “That works too.”

Cara grunted in agreement. She pulled away, her lips popping as they left Kahlan’s neck, and turned her around.

Cara’s lips were curved in a grin that Kahlan had come to recognize as a promise of very pleasant things to follow. She pushed Kahlan backwards slowly, green eyes fixed solidly on Kahlan’s until Kahlan was pressed gently into the flaky trunk of a thick Cedar tree. A coil of warmth was worming its way through Kahlan’s stomach. She swallowed and licked her lips and Cara’s hands moved languriously down her body, tracing the curve of her breasts and the flare of her hips.

“How about,” Cara whispered. “How about you let me worry about making it last.”

Her hands were fisted in the material at Kahlan’s waist. She gathered it slowly, lifting it higher and higher until it was level with Kahlan’s hips. Then Cara flashed Kahlan a cocky grin and said, “This probably isn’t a good idea, but I trust you.”

“What’s not—”

In an instant, Cara was on her knees in front of Kahlan and Kahlan didn’t need to finish her question. “Cara, you can’t—“

Cara dropped Kahlan’s dress over her head and moved her hands to Kahlan’s thighs. Kahlan could feel her moving against her legs, her leather brushing her shins as she settled. She could feel the brush of Cara’s insanely soft hair against her thighs, and Kahlan pressed her hands ineffectively against the bulge in her dress that was the back of Cara’s head. She wanted this. She’d never really entertained the thought before, always kept herself limited to physical acts that, if not eliminated, then at least limited the chance of Confession. And now Cara was there, much closer than what was safe, and the fire between Kahlan’s legs in anticipation of Cara’s touch was not going to be tamed. She wanted this and at the same time, she couldn’t want this. Cara couldn’t be so close with no escape route with no way to avoid the rush of Confession Kahlan wasn’t going to be able to control.

 _I trust you_. How could Cara say something like that if Kahlan couldn’t even trust herself?

She whimpered when Cara’s fingers hooked in her undergarments and tugged them down. If only the tree wasn’t behind her she would back away, she would—but she was trapped, the tree at her back and Cara’s arms threaded around her legs, holding her in place. Cara’s mouth pressed against the inside of her upper thigh, mouth open and tongue hot against Kahlan’s skin. Kahlan sagged back against the tree weakly. One hand scrabbled at the tree’s bark, the other fluttered helplessly against Cara’s head. She couldn’t fall into this, she couldn’t.

“You can’t,” Kahlan gasped. “Cara…Cara, you can’t…”

Cara ignored her. Her fingers were tensing and relaxing, kneading Kahlan’s thighs as her mouth moved up and around, licking and sucking and brushing against the hair between Kahlan’s legs but avoiding the slickness Kahlan could feel pooling. Kahlan’s breath was shuddering in her chest, a combination of panic and arousal that she couldn’t seem to swing fully in one direction or the other. She wasn’t even sure if she was trying to push Cara away or pull her closer anymore. Then Cara’s tongue flicked out, flat and firm and incredibly hot and Kahlan jerked with pleasure, her upper body crashing back against the tree while Cara held her bottom half steady. Cara’s mouth was firmly attached, her lips and tongue moving in a way that felt very much like a passionate kiss, save for their intimate location. Kahlan writhed. She could hear herself crying out. Her hand was most definitely pulling Cara closer now, craving the scorching pleasure shooting through her body, turning her legs to jelly, and Cara seemed all too eager to comply. She moved closer, her nose pressing into Kahlan’s mound, her tongue and mouth forming an impenetrable seal over Kahlan’s sex, unrelenting in their drive towards release. Kahlan felt the first tell-tale burn of climax scorching her groin, and in some far off part of her brain she knew she had to get Cara away. But her hands wouldn’t listen to her, too suffused with pleasure to do anything more than twitch helplessly. “No,” she choked out, “No no no no—“

Then Cara was standing before her, dragging her bodily forward and replacing her mouth with a gloved hand, her leather clad-fingers slipping easily in the combined wetness of her mouth and Kahlan’s juices. Kahlan curved against her, her body rigid with impending convulsions, her face pressed into the arm holding her up. Release hit her like a lightening bolt, sending her body crashing into desperate tremors. She bit down on Cara’s bicep as she crested and fell, crested and fell, until she could no longer stand on her own.

She leaned against Cara, panting, Cara’s hand quiet between her legs. With effort, Kahlan pulled herself upright and leaned back. Her head was pleasantly fuzzy, and Cara was looking at her with a very satisfied smirk on her face. Cara’s mouth glistened in the sunlight, and Kahlan’s sex jumped as if she’d been physically touched when she realized what exactly shone on Cara’s lips. She leaned forward, then stopped, startled at the unconscious desire to kiss Cara and taste for herself. “Spirits,” she said instead. Her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat.

“Good?” Cara laughed.

Kahlan took a half step back, leaning against the solid strength of the tree again. She still didn’t quite trust her legs. She took a deep breath—her heart was still racing. “You have to ask?”

“No. I just like to hear it. Fans my ego.”

“For the sake of your ego, then: better than good.”

Cara rocked back on her heels, looking very smug.

“Creator, I can barely stand up.” Kahlan closed her eyes and dragged her hands through her hair. “That was dangerous, Cara.” She didn’t need to open her eyes to know Cara had shrugged rather than respond. “What if I hadn’t...?”

“But you did,” Cara said with finality. “And I’m fine. So let’s not focus on what could have happened. Okay?”

Kahlan opened her eyes. Cara’s green eyes were steady with confidence, and Kahlan found herself nodding. “Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Kahlan shook her head. “No, thank you. That was…” She bit her lip and glanced away, unsure of what she wanted to say qualified as breaking their rule of “not talking about it”.

“What?” Cara prompted.

Kahlan met her gaze again. “I never thought I’d ever do something like that. With anyone.”

“Stick it in and finish quick?” Cara supplied.

“Something like that.” She’d fantasized about what it might feel like, yes, but every time she remembered she’d have to order her Confessed partner to perform the act, the desire crumbled. There was nothing erotic about instructing a human to do something the way she might order around a dog. Cara had done it of her own free will, and that had been almost as exciting as the actual touch of her tongue. Kahlan straightened and let playfulness creep back into her voice. “So. Anything I can do to repay the favor?”

Cara struck a thoughtful pose, index finger tapping her chin. “Now that you mention it…” She dropped her arm and shrugged, a teasing glint in her eye. She shrugged. “Nope. Can’t think of anything.”

Kahlan lunged at her, laughing, and together they toppled to the forest floor.


	16. A Wrinkle

They started to linger.

It had happened quite naturally, born out of Kahlan’s lethargy after sex; her apparent unwillingness to force her muscles back into the rigors of the day. Cara could often relate—under normal circumstances, sex happened in a bed and after it was done you had the option of just falling asleep. They had no such luxury, but as it stood Cara wasn’t sure of her boundaries. She had no context for whether or not it would be rude to remind Kahlan that they were trying not to attract attention to their departure together, so the less time they were gone, the better. She wasn’t even sure if it would be considered rude to stand and wait for Kahlan to collect herself, and so she had taken to simply mimicking Kahlan. If she sat, Cara sat. When she stood, Cara stood. And if she chose to remain lying on the ground, stretched out on the ground, well…Cara wasn’t exactly comfortable lying on the ground, obsessing over what Kahlan might be thinking in the after glow of sex, but she laid on the ground as well. And when Kahlan started talking, well…

Cara had tried to stay quiet. But Kahlan had either not noticed she was speaking to the trees or she simply hadn’t cared. She’d pose questions—rhetorical, philosophical—her voice pitched low, as if she was asking them only to hear how they sounded outside of her head. It was when she asked things like “What do you think the Keeper wants with the world, anyway?” that Cara felt compelled to contribute, because they were questions she’d found herself asking as well and she wanted to hear Kahlan’s opinion.

They never talked about what they were doing.

Kahlan had sneakily gotten Cara to open up a bit about her training as a Mord-Sith by asking how Mord-Sith and Sisters of the Dark were different. By the time Cara realized what she was revealing Kahlan’s blue eyes were fixed on her, piercing her, seeing what felt like everything, and Cara knew that even if she stopped Kahlan would know what had been left out.

If Cara was honest with herself, she was beginning to enjoy these little moments of quiet. They felt naughty and stolen—more so than the sex, even. Snippets of time every few days when nothing was required of her but to sit and listen and fold dry pine needles between her fingers. There was no Richard and there was no Zedd and there was no quest to save the world. Just Cara and a Confessor who had turned out to not be so bad after all.

So when Kahlan sat up, still breathing hard, her dress tugged down to reveal the very edges of her milky white breasts, and opened her mouth to say something, and then _didn’t_ , Cara felt the censored comment like a kick to the stomach.

“What?” Cara demanded.

Kahlan sat back and gathered her hair away from her face, eyes purposefully looking anywhere but at Cara. She shook her head and Cara sat back as well. She was aware that in that moment of things unsaid, something had shifted.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.”

Kahlan exhaled through her nose, a sign that she felt she was being forced into something she’d rather not get into, but the weird feeling in Cara’s stomach after Kahlan had kept her thoughts to herself had left a sour taste in her mouth that wouldn’t allow her to let Kahlan off the hook so easily. “I just…” Kahlan hesitated and turned so that Cara could see only the profile of her face. She watched as a flurry of emotions—half formed and indecipherable—flashed across Kahlan’s face. “I was thinking about something, and I don’t…” She shook her head again.

“Is it about feelings?” Cara prompted, her mouth half formed in a grin, ready to tease.

“No,” Kahlan said sharply, almost angrily, and the teasing grin faded from Cara’s lips. Kahlan turned and caught Cara’s expression. She immediately softened, sliding closer and tilting her upper body towards Cara reassuringly. “No, it’s not about feelings. It’s about…”

Again Kahlan hesitated. She began gnawing on her bottom lip, staring at the trees around them almost pleadingly, as if hoping a tree would step forward and clear it’s throat and said “I’ll take it from here.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I want a Rad-a-Han,” Kahlan admitted in a rush. She threw her arms up. “There. I said it.” Her face was already a deep scarlet. “It’s impossible, I know. I mean, where are we going to find one out here? In a stump?” She snorted at the thought. “It’s just that every time we do this, I start thinking about what it would feel like if you didn’t…” She gestured helplessly.

“Pull away?” Cara supplied.

Kahlan covered her eyes. “Exactly.”

“So what you’re saying is, you want to know what it feels like to come in my mouth.”

Kahlan’s hand dropped, her embarrassment giving way to shocked outrage. “Cara!” she cried disapprovingly.

Cara laughed. “Admit it—that’s what you want.”

“What I _want_ is…” Kahlan met Cara’s gaze evenly. She was silent, the moment heavy between them, then Kahlan blinked and her eyes darted quickly to her hands clasped in her lap. “What I want isn’t really worth discussing, because we both know it’s impossible.” She laughed hollowly. “I mean, really, where are we supposed to find something like that in the middle of the woods.”

“You never know,” Cara offered dutifully, but she agreed. It would be nice, but the chance of them finding a Rad-a-Han lying around, unchecked, was zero. And she’d never been one for entertaining false hopes.

“I do know,” Kahlan sighed. She stood and offered Cara her hand, pulling her to her feet. “It’s stupid, but I can’t help thinking about it.”

Cara shrugged and they turned and began walking back towards camp. Kahlan had only brought a Rad-a-Han up as an option a minute ago, and already Cara was having a hard time not thinking about it. Lying naked, being able to use her bare hands…

Cara glanced at Kahlan out of the corner of her eye. “It can’t hurt to look though, right?”

 Kahlan turned, and Cara watched as the startled look on her face gave way to gratitude.

“No.” Kahlan took Cara’s hand and squeezed it once, tightly, then let it drop again. “It can’t hurt.”

* * *

 

The search for the Rad-a-Han, as Cara had labeled it in her head, was honestly nothing more than random opportunities to make Kahlan smile. She would make a show of searching under rocks, behind stumps, in the holes made by woodpeckers. Zedd and Richard looked at her like she was crazy, but Kahlan smiled and shook her head and sometimes laughed and that was reason enough for Cara to keep doing it.

“What are you looking for?” Richard had asked. The question had been posed in good humor, but it had been obvious he was honestly curious.

Before Cara had had to come up with an answer, Kahlan had said “Night Wisps,” and that was that. Never mind that Cara had no idea what a Night Wisp even was—Richard evidently thought this was an honorable task, and he’d left her to her quiet joke.

Cara twisted the stem off of her apple as they walked. It was just past midday, and Kahlan was walking next to her in companionable silence. That had happened more and more lately—Kahlan walking next to her, and Cara wondered if Richard noticed. Or, rather, if he cared. Or was he so confident of his position in Kahlan’s life that he couldn’t even acknowledge that there might be competition?

Cara flicjed away the stem, and with it the notion that she might consider herself competition for whatever it was Richard and Kahlan shared. They had sex, yes. Richard and Kahlan couldn’t do that for very practical reasons, though if Cara did say so herself she’d done a fine job of avoiding the Confession problem so far. But she was fooling herself if she thought her sexual prowess leveled the playing field between herself and Richard. There were thousand of other things he could do and say that she wouldn’t or couldn’t—

Cara took a violent bit of apple, irritated with her line of thinking. She was not competing with Richard. Richard did not even enter into it.

“What is a Night Wisp, anyway?” Cara asked.

Kahlan started. “Sorry?”

“The things Richard thinks I’m looking for. What are they? I feel like I should know that.”

“Oh.” Kahlan’s expression cleared. “They’re—“

A sudden, silent puff of brown smoke interrupted her, as wide as Richard’s arms from fingertip to fingertip and only a little shorter. It seemed to rise from the forest floor, swirling and gathering dust and dirt until it was nearly opaque and then it realigned or fell away and a woman stepped forward, so quickly that it felt as if she’d always been there, standing in the dust, waiting for it to clear away.

Except she hadn’t.

Cara pulled Kahlan back, one agiel already in her hand.

“Shota,” Zedd announced disdainfully, though he didn’t sound particularly worried. Under her hand, Cara could feel Kahlan vibrating with rage.

Shota cast Zedd a polite smile.

So this was the witch. She did not look at all like Cara had expected—gnarled hands, back perpetually bent, eyes rheumy with age. This woman was old but not. Her face was youthful, her posture strong and self-assured, but her eyes—even from a distance—looked to be the eyes of a woman who had seen more than her fair share of life. Her clothing was heaped on her body in loose layers of various styles, all of it dyed various shades of brown and green, all of it in various stages of tatters. Her hair was just as unkempt as her clothing. It frizzed around her head in clumps and snarls, and whatever hung down her back had turned to dreadlocks ages ago. Beadwork, forgotten and fading, winked from the ends.

As if sensing Cara’s calculating gaze, Shota craned her neck, peering around Richard who stood directly in her path. She met Cara’s eyes and twisted her thin lips into an unreadable smile. Her eyes were tawny brown, almost orange, and there was very little white to her eyes. Cara was reminded of a hawk.

“Well met, Cara Mason,” Shota said. Her voice was smooth with knowledge.

Cara said nothing.

Shota raised her arms, the drapes of her clothing falling like wings from her limbs. “Do I exceed your greatest expectations?”

In a strange way, she did. Cara was more wary of her than she’d ever felt of Zedd or any of the Sisters of the Dark. She had the unpleasant sensation that this woman knew how to get around subtractive magic, and it left her feeling unpleasantly vulnerable. Cara stared back at Shota steadily, not quite willing to play the game but not willing to lose, either.

Shota lowered her arms slowly, an ironic smile on her lips. “I’ll say one thing for you, Seeker. You do pick interesting companions.”

Behind her, Cara felt Kahlan stiffen.

“What do you want?” Richard replied stiffly.

“I don’t want anything.”

“You always want something.”

“Then I suppose, if I phrase it right…” Shota tilted her head—another oddly birdlike motion—and considered. “I want you to know you’re going the wrong way.”

“We’re not,” Richard said proudly. His hand moved to his chest, where the compass hung from a chain around his neck. “We have the compass.”

Shota waved him off. “I’m not talking about your little quest. I’m talking about your duties as a Seeker.”

“He’s doing them,” Kahlan interrupted, her voice harsh with anger.

Shota ignored her.

“We don’t have time for your games.” Kahlan would not be ignored. “If you have something to say, say it.” She stepped forward. “Speak plainly, witch.”

Shota regarded Kahlan with casual curiosity. Ahead of them, Zedd winced and tried to catch Kahlan’s eye, subtly shaking his head to dissuade her from further provoking the witch. “I meant what I said. You’re going the wrong way. The Sisters of the Dark using Richard’s name as an excuse to sack and burn and kill anyone who refuses to swear fealty to the Keeper—“ Shota pointed to her left. “Are that way.”

“What are you talking about?” Richard demanded. His defensive tone screamed denial, but Cara was watching Zedd. The wizard was staring at Shota, his expression horrified but trusting.

Shota fixed Richard with a dark glare. “I’m talking about Lord Richard Rahl, marked by the Keeper to bring about the Keeper’s reign on Earth. I’m talking about the Sisters of the Dark, Lord Rahl’s chosen emissaries, who have been tasked with bringing people to the cause or sending them to the Keeper. I’m talking about men and women and children being killed—slaughtered—for worshipping the Creator. I’m talking, Richard Rahl, absent Lord of D’Hara, about the void of power you created when you refused to take the throne of D’Hara.” Shota stopped, her nostrils flared with fury, the edges of her eyes tinged with red. She was breathing hard, and the air around them felt electric, on the verge of combustion. “Like I said.” She lifted her arm and pointed to her left again. “Your _duties_ , Lord Rahl…are that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one word for you all: School. :(  
> I promise, though, that doesn't mean no more updates! It just means bear with me...believe me, I'd rather be writing this than about the global systems of the 19th century at work in Jane Austen's novels...actually, that's a lie. I enjoy writing about that, too. But I'm sick like that. :)  
> (Also, there was no proof-reading going on because I wanted to get this up before I went to bed so I'd feel like I accomplished something, so I apologize for any and all mistakes. I'll break out the red pen tomorrow.)


	17. As Bad Plans Go

In all the time they’d been traveling, someone was always talking, always moving, always making sound. The absolute silence hanging over them following Shota’s ultimatum was unsettling, and Kahlan realized she couldn’t remember the last time they’d all four been absolutely silent. Her ears were buzzing with the quiet. 

They were waiting for Richard to make a decision. 

But that was how they existed. Swinging on the end of Richard’s pendulum, following his moral compass. She knew that they weren’t going to let Sister Nicci and her acolytes continue their murdering spree, but how they’d go about it was a little less certain. She wondered if Richard’s apparent indecision had more to do wit his inability to reconcile the fact that this was evidently his fault.

Shota stood awkwardly next to Zedd, as if she knew they weren’t allies, but since they both practiced magic he was the closest thing she had in present company. Cara scowled at the ground, avoiding looking at anyone, and Kahlan wondered just how hard she was biting back an “I told you so”.

Cara had told Richard when Darken Rahl died that D’Hara was his responsibility now, that he was the Lord Rahl, that D’Hara couldn’t just make due without someone calling the shots, and Richard had practically sprinted in the opposite direction. Cara had seen the writing on the wall months ago, and they’d waved her concerns off, and for the life of her Kahlan couldn’t understand why they’d done so. Because she was Mord-Sith and therefore Cara’s only concern would be finding someone else to hold her leash? Their time with Cara thus far had revealed a wickedly analytical mind, capable of ignoring the lies and misdirections of their enemies straight to their ultimate goals. She did it with a natural ease that Kahlan was both impressed and envious of. She’d trained for years to be able to read people. Cara did it without even trying.

She glanced at Cara, wishing Shota wasn’t standing so close, that she might ask her if she thought the witch woman was telling the truth, and Cara rolled her head from side to side, cracking her neck and catching Kahlan’s eye. Cara held her gaze, her expression unreadable, and Kahlan felt a hot knot twist in her stomach, then Cara looked away and Kahlan forced herself to do the same.

The feeling was starting to be more and more common—the twist in her stomach that hit her randomly when she was near Cara or looking at Cara or thinking about Cara…

She was startlingly funny, incomprehensibly understanding about some things that Kahlan would have never given her credit for, and her short temper and deveil may care attitude—so infuriating a little over two months ago—were now directed in a direction other than Kahlan more often than not. Not only was she becoming less and less infuriating, but Kahlan had found herself thinking of Cara’s more passionate responses to ridiculous ideas as sort of…sexy.

What was even more worrisome was her growing irritation with Richard. 

She didn’t know when it had flipped, only that it had. She had to put conscious effort into not neglecting him—had to remind herself to kiss him good morning and ruffle his hair when she passed and to step up and walk next to him. She didn’t know why she was trying to keep up appearances, if it was to keep him from getting suspicious about her and Cara or if she was just too scared to admit that this—their norm for the past year—had withered and died and she hadn’t even cared.

She’d wanted to discuss it with Cara—not the hot knot in her stomach bit, just the not liking Richard so much anymore bit—but she was scared that Cara would take it to mean that Kahlan was developing feelings for her. Kahlan wasn’t even sure if that was what it was or if Cara was just something new and exciting that distracted from the stress of their daily lives. And besides that, she wasn’t sure if she was ready to give up on Richard. She’d loved him so deeply only a few months ago. That didn’t just disappear in the blink of an eye.

Did it?

Richard sighed and dragged a hand down his face. There were dark circles under his eyes, almost as dark as bruises, and Kahlan wondered if they all looked that tired. “We’ve got to split up,” he said miserably. “I don’t want to, especially if there’s really a small army. Two won’t be nearly enough, unless Shota…” Richard trailed off and looked to the witch woman hopefully.

Shota grinned and fluttered her eyelashes. “I’d be happy to help, just as long as the Seeker repays the favor.”

“No,” Kahlan said quickly. She knew what Shota’s favor would be:something about Richard pledging to return with her to Agaden Reach for the rest of his life. “No favors.” Then she felt the pit of her stomach drop out when she realized that in all likelihood, it was Zedd and Cara going after Sister Nicci and she’d just denied them potentially life saving help.

“Just you and lovely Cara then, I’m afraid,” Shota said to Zedd with a sigh.

“I’m sure we can handle it,” Zedd replied, but he said it with no bravado.

Cara said nothing.

“I don’t know how you’ll find us,” Richard admitted.

“I can fashion some linking amulets,” Zedd offered. “They’re not the most precise of things, but they’ll do the trick.”

Richard nodded, and Zedd began rummaging through his pack.

“Just so we’re clear,” Cara started slowly, “we’re going to kill Nicci. Not warn her off.”

Richard hesitated, obviously loathe to give such a blatantly violent order. “If you can avoid it—“

“Kill her,” Kahlan interrupted. Cara turned towards her, green eyes serious and unreadable. “She’s just going to keep doing this, trying to slow us down, lure Richard away from the Stone…” She thrust her chin forward determinedly. “If you get the chance, kill her.”

Cara looked to Richard for confirmation, and Kahlan felt a swirl of jealousy that the Mord-Sith was so intent on following his orders. After a moment of chewing on his lip, Richard nodded.

Kahlan turned, feeling oddly satisfied, and found Shota staring at her, her head tipped to the side and mouth slightly slack, like she was entranced with something happening over Kahlan’s shoulder that only she could see. After a moment, Shota blinked and smiled falsely and turned to Zedd.

“Spirits, Zedd, how long does it take to cast a simple Linking spell…”

Less than five minutes later, the four of them went their separate ways. Their separation was awkward and abrupt. Kahlan’s head was filled with a million things she wished she would have said to Cara, none of them appropriate to say in front of everyone. She’d lifted her arms partway for a hug, and Cara had looked like she’d step into it, and then Kahlan had realized what she was doing and dropped her arms back to her sides. The look in Cara’s eyes—the uncertain trust followed by dark acceptance—haunted Kahlan as she and Richard left Zedd and Cara behind.

She wished she’d hugged her.

She wished she’d said something other than “goodbye”, too. Maybe “I’ll miss you”? Something that was a little less finite and a little more meaningful. She was usually so good at expressing herself, but when it came to Cara she second guessed and censored and came off, she was sure, as unemotional and unattached.

Richard noticed her brooding. He slipped his hand into hers—so much larger and rougher than Cara’s—and squeezed. “They’ll be alright,” he promised.

Kahlan nodded dutifully, though she seriously doubted it. Two against ten was not very good odds, let alone two against a small army. Zedd she was not worried about. If things got bad he could removed himself from the situation with a snap of his fingers. Cara…if Cara got in over her head there was no saving grace.

And Creator knew Cara loved being in over her head. 

* * *

 

“I have a plan,” Cara announced.

Zedd eyed her warily. “Already?”

She could understand his skepticism. A moment ago, when Shota had asked if they had a plan, they’d both said no. She’d shrugged and disappeared and the moment the brown dust she’d left behind had settled to the ground, Cara made her announcement.

“I’ve had it for awhile,” she explained.

Zedd gestured for her to continue.

“I go into the village and get caught.”

Zedd stopped and faced her. His bushy grey eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s a good plan once I explain it.”

“Please. Dazzle me.”

“I go into the village, I find some villagers, I tell them to hand me over to Nicci as a sign that they’re loyal to the Keeper, since I was in town trying to get them to try to fight her followers off.” She took a deep breath—an awful lot of her plan depended on this next bit holding up. “Nicci knows who I am. And why is she sacking all of these villages in the first place?”

Zedd’s forehead was creased with concentration. “To lure Richard away from his quest,” he said slowly.

Cara nodded. “So what is Nicci going to make me do?”

“Tell you where Richard is.” Zedd’s answer was quicker, his voice light with understanding. “Which is in the opposite direction of the village.”

“Exactly.”

“And what do I do while you get caught?”

“Make sure they don’t kill me before I get them away from the village, for one,” Cara grimaced. “After that, you’ve got to catch up to Richard and Kahlan.”

“We’re not just leaving you with the Sisters of the Dark,” Zedd protested.

“What’s more important, Zedd? Keeping the Sisters away from the Stone or making sure I don’t get punched in the face a few times?’

“They’re going to do more than just punch you in the face,” Zedd argued.

Cara shrugged. “I’ve had far worse than a punch in the face. Nicci can’t kill me. She needs to find Richard and I’m the only clue she’ll have.”

Zedd fell silent, his eyes forward and unfocused as he considered her points. At last he sighed and shook his shaggy head. “I don’t like it,” he said, then he sighed. “But as options go, this might be the best.”

“Two against an army?” Cara snorted. “Zedd, we’ve got nothing _but_ bad options.”  
  
Even as she said it, she felt the unwelcoming niggling of fear in the pit of her stomach. She’d never gone into battle alone, never given herself up as bait before. She knew that the plan she’d laid out for Zedd was straightforward, but Spirits knew even the best plans could go awry. And what she’d offered wasn’t even a _halfway_ good plan.   
  
Cara set her shoulders, determined not to let her uncertainty show, but inside she was awash with what-ifs.

But mostly, she wished she’d said a proper goodbye to Kahlan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, but it's about to get reeeaall good ;)


	18. Trust

Despite his initial acceptance of her plan, Cara knew Zedd would have second thoughts.

He voiced them just after breakfast the next morning, launching into a long-winded argument against throwing herself onto the fire and making unnecessary self-sacrifices.

It all sounded very noble when he said it, but nobility was the furthest thing from Cara’s mind. Zedd seemed to think that she was motivated out of some desire to save the innocent people of the village, and Cara had had to fight not to laugh out loud.

The people of the village didn’t factor into it, except that they were unfortunate enough to be selected as Nicci’s bait for Richard. He’d sidestepped going himself by sending Cara and Zedd, but if Cara had had her preference, they would have ignored Nicci entirely.

No, Cara was not intent on saving the people of the village. She was more interested in the fun she’d have outmaneuvering Nicci away from the village. She was certain that she could do it—convince her to turn around and chase after Richard—and the thought of so masterfully playing Nicci’s ambitious nature against her made goose bumps of excitement rise along Cara’s arms.

Zedd, however, seemed convinced that Cara’s surrender would lead to a public flogging, followed quickly by the decimation of the village.

She couldn’t convince him otherwise. He couldn’t see people’s weaknesses the way she could. She had a suspicion that Nicci could as well—that was obvious from her razing of villages throughout the Midlands. She understood Richard’s desire to protect. And in Cara’s experience, people who knew how to play others always thought themselves too observant to be played themselves.

“And what am I supposed to do while you go off and get captured?” Zedd grumped. “Sit around and twiddle my thumbs?”

Cara didn’t answer. It was a repeat of an argument they’d had several times over the past few hours. Zedd was miffed he was being left out—he was a Wizard of the First Order, for spirits sake!—and Cara had explained more than once that Zedd being caught was not believable. He was a Wizard of the First order, she’d reminded him mockingly, far too powerful to be taken prisoner by a bunch of villagers.

“Richard isn’t going to be happy with you,” Zedd said, like Richard was her father and she should be scared of his reaction.

Cara rolled her eyes. “If it saves the village, what does Richard have to complain about?”

“You underestimate your importance. You’re a vital member of the group, Cara—“

“Will you quit acting like I’m going to die? I’m not going to die.”

“You’re sacrificing yourself—“

“It’s _not_ sacrifice!” Cara snarled. “It’s misdirection! And even if it was sacrifice—isn’t that what you three are always trying to get me to do? Put other people before myself?” She snorted. “Talk about mixed signals.”

Zedd was quiet for a moment, the only sound the swishing of his robes across the ground. “What if Nicci has already attacked before we get there? What then?”

Cara shrugged. The linking amulet around her neck was heavy, pulling persistently in the opposite direction. “I say we turn around and catch up with Kahlan and Richard.”

“I was thinking we’d chase Nicci down.”

Cara shot him a humorless smile. “Now who’s trying to be a hero?”

* * *

 

The village was less than a day’s walk away, and not for the first time Cara found herself surprised by the forest’s ability to shroud and separate. If Shota hadn’t pointed them in the right direction, they might never have known the small logging village existed. Which made Nicci’s plan all the more ludicrous—why attack places no one had never heard of if you wanted a reaction? Go for something bigger—at least mid-sized, someplace with a little clout behind the name. But given their proximity to the village, she had to question Shota’s intentions as well. In all likelihood, Nicci would have stumbled on them in the next few days, making Shota’s interference unnecessary.

Unless Shota was, for some reason, invested in this particular village.

Cara studied said village critically from her vantage point up a rather large pine tree. Zedd had pulled his mind riding trick again, this time with a crow, and Cara’s job was to make sure no scouts stumbled on his body slumped against the tree below. The town looked to be nothing special—just a hasty conglomeration of log cabins and horse stables. As far as she could tell, Nicci hadn’t attacked. There were several tents to the West of town—not an army’s worth, by any stretch of the imagination, but still. A handful of people skilled with weapons against a group of people who weren’t could do considerable damage without having to number in the hundreds.

Zedd swooped toward her and settled on the branch next to Cara's head.

“Done already?”

“There wasn’t much to see,” he screeched. “I’m getting out.” The crow’s body shivered, it’s feathers standing on end, and Cara saw its eyes shift ever so slightly. It cawed angrily at her and then took off. She glanced down between her boots. Zedd was stretching against the tree, waiting for her to descend.

Cara backtracked, shimmying confidently down the trunk. She landed lightly next to Zedd.

“So? Is Nicci here or not?”

“She is.” Zedd winced and rubbed his neck. “Bags blasted crows. I don’t know what it is about them, but they make me feel like I was stuffed in a trunk afterward.”

Cara ignored him. It was his own fault—she’d offered to catch him a hawk and he had turned her down. “Where is she?”

“Lounging in the biggest tent, of course.” Zedd snorted. “The woman’s ego is almost as big as Darken Rahl’s.”

Cara had her doubts about that.

“They weren’t gathering to attack? Planning an attack?”

“No, nothing.” Zedd reached out a hand and Cara obliged, pulling him to his feet. “They all seem content with standing around and looking dangerous.” He hesitated. “I’m beginning to think that this whole thing is an attempt to drag Richard away from the Stone.”

“You don’t say,” Cara muttered dryly.

“Well, then, what will you do? If she’s not actually going to attack the village, we can’t very well have someone hand you over as a peace treaty.”

“I could just walk right into camp.”

Zedd laughed. “And say what?”

“Well,” Cara began slowly, “What about something along the lines of I want to be on your side?”

 Zedd blinked. His forehead furrowed, and Cara saw the familiar suspicion—absent during these last few weeks—creeping back into Zedd’s eyes. He studied her in silence, and Cara knew he was weighing everything she’d ever done, everything she’d ever said, against her.

Wondering if maybe she meant it.

Wondering if she could still be trusted.

It hurt. Cara was not prepared for that. She considered herself trustworthy. She’d never even hinted at betraying them. Maybe she was a little unorthodox, and maybe she didn’t fit in perfectly with Richard’s moral code, but she was loyal. If she was anything, she was loyal. She lifted her chin defiantly.

“You don’t trust me.”

Zedd opened his mouth to deny it, and then he closed it without saying a word. That was good, Cara raged against the sinking in her stomach, he’s being honest with you. That’s _good_.

“Maybe,” Zedd finally admitted. He had the courtesy to look away as he said it, as if he was embarrassed of his suspicion. “Who’s to say you don’t think the Keeper offers a better deal?”

“Because he doesn’t,” Cara replied impatiently.

Zedd eyed her critically. She sighed with frustration.

“Here’s all you need to know about Mord-Sith, old man. We don’t like change. We like knowing where we stand, who’s above us and who’s below us. This thing with the Keeper is going to throw the whole world off balance. I know where I stand right now. I’m not going to leave off something certain for something that I don’t know anything about.”

Zedd was quiet.

“Okay?” Cara pressed.

He nodded slowly. “I believe you.”

She sighed. A knot of tension she hadn’t noticed before suddenly released from the back of her neck. “Good. Now, we’re going to need another linking amulet, and you’re going to need a horse.” 

* * *

 

If stealing a horse was easy, then sneaking into camp was downright laughable.

Cara had broken the perimeter expecting to be swallowed up by a mass of zealots or, at the very least, triggering some sort of magical alarm. When nothing happened, she looked up, to where Zedd was wheeling above, once again in bird form, and shrugged. If no one cared she was there, she may as well see just how far she could push her luck.

She slipped easily into the affected confidence of a Mord-Sith as she strode through camp. She’d learned at a very young age that acting like she belonged went a long way in convincing those around her that she did. Cara purposefully ignored the ragged men and women milling about the tents, constantly aware of any lingering glances, constantly on the alert for anyone who seemed to recognize her, anyone who looked ready to sound the alarm. She was mostly worried about any Sisters of the Dark, but she traversed almost the entirety of camp without catching a glimpse of their blood red robes. More and more, Cara was beginning to think Shota was playing her own little game, and her stomach dropped at the thought. If Shota’s sole goal had been to separate them, well…she’d certainly succeeded.

 _For a moment_ , Cara reminded herself. Zedd would be back with Kahlan and Richard in less than a day. Certainly Shota’s plans, if she had any, would rely on them being separated for longer.

She found Nicci’s tent easily enough—an exorbitant, massive thing that just screamed _set me on fire_. Cara wasn’t sure if it spoke more to Nicci’s ego or her inexperience in battle, but regardless, it made her own job easier. She ducked inside confidently, ready to smirk away a fireball, only to find the tent abandoned. A slight disappointment, to be sure, but she still had surprise on her side.

Nicci’s tent was certainly more luxurious than any tent Cara had slept in. The bed was elevated, first of all, and a decorative rug covered most of the floor. There were books and scrolls stacked on a thick oak desk in the corner. It was all ridiculously out of place for a battlefield, but she couldn’t say she was surprised. Nicci had never struck her as the type of person to forego personal comfort.

She unsheathed her agiels, tossing them onto the bed before dropping onto the mass of blankets and furs herself. She crossed her legs at the ankle and laced her fingers behind her head, a slow smirk easing across her lips as she imagined the look on Nicci’s face when she returned.

She didn’t have to wait long.

She saw the shadow of Nicci’s body as she stopped outside the door, heard her excuse herself from someone’s company, then the top of Nicci’s head slipped through the parting.Nicci straightened, and Cara had the pleasure of watching her face run through the subtleties of several emotions, starting with confusion and ending rapidly with fury.

“Cara Mason,” she snarled. She was practically vibrating.

Cara lifted one hand and twiddled her fingers in greeting.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Nicci asked. She was doing her best to sound unsurprised with Cara’s presence, but it was too little too late.

“Take a guess.”

Nicci snorted. “Richard’s finally gotten up the courage to send an assassin, and you volunteered.”

“I wish.” Cara swung her legs onto the floor and stood. “But no.”

“Then why?” Nicci stepped away from the tent flap. Her shoulders were thrown back aggressively as she tried to take her space back from Cara’s invasion.

Cara smirked. “Because I’ve never been one for being on the losing side.”

Nicci titled her head, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What exactly does that mean?”

“What it sounds like.” Cara lifted a scroll from Nicci’s desk, studied the seal, then tossed it back, upsetting a neat stack of parchment. “I’m here to help.”

Nicci’s response was immediate and self-assured. “I don’t need your help.”

Cara snorted. “Oh yes you do. You’re sitting here, waiting for Richard to come to you, but I—“ Cara reached inside her shirt, hooking a finger around a thin chain and pulling forth her linking amulet. “ _I_ can bring you to Richard.”

Nicci was a poor actress. Excitement, greed, delight—all three flitted across her face as she examined the amulet dangling from the silver chain. When she met Cara’s gaze again, she’d managed to school her expression into something that resembled bored curiosity.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what this is,” Cara prodded. “We both know you’re not fooling anybody.”

“I know what it is.” Nicci stepped forward, her head lowered, her gaze predatory. “I’m just not convinced you’re going to give it to me. Or that it’s actually linked to Richard.”

“I’m not going to give it to you.” Cara dropped the amulet. “And I have no way to convince you that it’s linked to Richard.”

“Unless I set off on some wild goose chase. Am I right?” Nicci’s tone conveyed just how ridiculous she found that idea.

Cara studied her for a moment, waiting until Nicci began blinking uncomfortably under her gaze. “Why do you think I’m here?”

“To trick me into something.”

“Or?”

Nicci forced a laugh. “There is no _or_.”

Cara grinned. “ _Or_ I could want to be on the winning side.”

“By Richard’s count, his _is_ the winning side.”

Cara shrugged and crossed her arms. “Richard’s perspective is a bit skewed. He honestly believes a Seeker and a Confessor and a Wizard are going to be able to stop the Keeper.” She lifted an eyebrow, inviting Nicci to share in the joke.

“I noticed you didn’t include a Mord-Sith in that list.”

“Because I’m not delusional.”

Nicci pursed her lips, considering. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand where this sudden change in heart is coming from. Nor do I understand how you came to be in my tent, with a linking amulet, with none of your little...friends...chasing after you. It all smacks of some intricate plan that ends with me being played.”

“You’re half right,” Cara admitted. “They sent me after you to stop you from sacking this village. Which I see you're not exactly in a hurry to do, but regardless...I have my own reasons for wanting to catch up with you.”

Nicci studied her critically, and Cara was aware that she was doing her best to make Cara uncomfortable. She could try all she wanted, but the fact of the matter was, Nicci was not the scariest person Cara had ever met. Not even close. “Do tell. What do you get out of betraying the Seeker?”

"You mean besides the possibility of immortality by getting in the Keeper's good graces?"

Nicci's smile was feral. "Of course."

Cara was silent for a moment, letting the anticipation build. She stepped forward, eyes fixed on Nicci’s, and leaned into Nicci’s personal space.

“You know magic,” Cara murmured.

Nicci scoffed, affronted. “Is that a question?”

Cara shook her head slowly, her eyes never leaving Nicci’s. Her lips remembered the shape of a cruel smile, and she let it stretch her face.

“I want you to bring Darken Rahl back.”

Nicci blinked, surprised, then her mouth curled upwards in a delighted grin.

“I think that can be arranged.”


	19. Seal of the Eternals

Richard was having issues with the compass.

Neither one of them was really surprised. It was just their luck, to be separated from the one magical person who might have insight into the problem at the precise moment things started to go wrong.

_Such is the story of our lives_ , Kahlan thought sarcastically.

It had started spinning crazily after a few miles. They’d reached a wall of rugged rock that seemed to erupt from the ground, covered in lichen and moss, and the compass had lost its point. So they'd backtracked, until it locked onto a direction again, pointing back towards the rock wall, and they’d tried again. And again it had spun crazily, like a dog that had lost the scent.

“Maybe if we scale it,” Richard mused. He stepped back, studying the climb. There were potential handholds, but they were few and far between. “If we get over this thing, maybe the compass will start working again.”

Kahlan sighed heavily from her position on the forest floor. “What happens if we get over and it still won’t work?”

“I don’t know,” Richard admitted. “I think these rocks have a lot of iron in them. That’s why the compass can’t find its point. It happens all the time.”

“Maybe. But this compass doesn’t point North,” Kahlan pointed out. “It points to the Stone of Tears. It’s magical—it shouldn’t be affected by whatever’s in those rocks.”

Richard was silent as he considered this. To him, this was simply another hurdle to clear in their quest. To her, it was a very clear sign that they never should have split up. She knew she could be more helpful, but it was difficult to summon the initiative when she was of half a mind to turn around and find Cara and Zedd.

She absently toyed with the linking amulet around her neck, sliding it back and forth on its chain. Zedd had given it to her despite her insistence that it should go to the Seeker—if they happened to get separated, he was the only one who could get the Stone to the Pillars of Creation. Zedd’s reasoning was that he wasn’t sure how the magic of the compass would affect the amulet, and she’d finally conceded to his point. It was a constant, physical reminder of the distance separating them. It had gotten noticeably colder against her skin as they walked, never warming to match her body temperature.

“It’ll get hot,” Zedd had explained, “It’ll feel hot enough to burn. It won’t hurt you, but when it gets that hot we’ll be in shouting distance.”

The cold burnt, too. It meant they weren’t close enough to help, and Kahlan was having a hard time forgetting that fact even without the aid of the amulet.

Richard cursed, drawing Kahlan’s attention. “It’s always something,” he said angrily. He unbuckled the sword from his hip then sat heavily across from Kahlan, laying the blade across his lap. He met her gaze and shook his head helplessly.

“We’ll figure it out,” Kahlan said. Even to her the reassurance sounded hollow. It was what she was supposed to say in situations like this. To support the Seeker no matter what, even when things looked impossible. Except she was quickly realizing that she was more worried about what was happening to Cara and less about what might happen if they didn’t find the Stone.

_And Zedd_ , she reminded herself quickly. _Cara AND Zedd_.

Richard sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a haircut, Kahlan noted absently. “I don’t even know where to start.” He held the compass in his palm, then snapped it closed with frustration when it continued to tip and spin aimlessly. “If Zedd was here…”

“You made a decision,” Kahlan reminded him. “The worst thing you can do now is question that.” It was—the last thing they needed was wandering aimlessly through the woods, half invested in the Stone and half in making their way back to the village. “We’ll keep trying.”

“Trying what?” Richard’s shoulders sagged. He picked at the seam of his scabbard with his thumb. “Walking back and forth?”

“If we have to.”

Richard bent forward, resting his head on his knees. After a moment, his muffled voice came from between his legs. “This is _not_ what the Seeker is supposed to be. I’m supposed to know how to deal with stuff like this. I feel like I’m...I'm wandering around and every good thing I do, I do because I tripped over the solution.” He raised his eyes to Kahlan. “I’m not some hero. I don’t outsmart the bad guys. I’m just..." He shook his head dejectedly. "I just get lucky.” He gestured to the rock wall behind him. “And my luck just ran out.”

Kahlan felt the pull of sympathy. She’d forgotten, until that moment, what he was: A young woodsman, torn from the world he knew and the people he loved, dropped into a role he had never asked for or been prepared for. He did his best, but there was so much he didn’t know—about D’Hara, about the Midlands, about magic…he put on a good show, he was certain in his convictions, but he was still barely a man. A man who was being asked to carry an enormous burden. And she, as one of the few who he’d trusted enough to help him carry it, was not exactly doing her share.

Guilt made her nauseous. She slid towards him and kissed his cheek reassuringly. Richard buried his face in his knees again. “I just need a minute,” he said. His voice was gritty and thick, and if he was crying, Kahlan wasn't about to judge. If anyone deserved a good cry, Creator knew it was Richard Cypher. She wrapped an arm around his waist and dropped her head onto his shoulder, offering her silent support. They’d been in this together from the very beginning. She needed to believe in him just as much as he needed to rely on her. That was her job as a Confessor—never mind her feelings for Cara or for Richard; her job, her duty, was to support the Seeker. If he needed a minute to process a bit of a crisis of faith, she would let him. 

She tightened her grip around Richard. “We’ll find it,” she insisted. “We’re not going to give up.”

Richard nodded. With a sigh he lifted his head. His eyes were red but his cheeks were dry, and the familiar glint of determination was slowly returning to his brown eyes. He squeezed Kahlan’s hand gratefully then helped her to her feet. From his pocket he produced the compass, and she took the Sword of Truth from him to free his hands. She was going to be more involved this time, for both their sakes.

"What feels wrong?" Kahlan prompted. "What's different from yesterday?"

“It feels….” Richard shook his head. “I don’t know. I know it’s strange, but it feels like it’s confused. Like it’s trying to figure out where it is. If that makes sense.”

It didn’t really, but Richard had been carrying the compass for the past few weeks. If he’d managed to establish some sort of understanding with the device, she wasn’t about to question it.

“Maybe we took a wrong turn?”

Richard turned in a slow circle, his brow furrowed, obviously fighting the frustration still simmering in his veins when the compass continued to tick aimlessly. “I don’t know how. Until we got here, it was working fine.”

“So...what’s special about here?”

Richard turned to face the rocky wall. “Nothing, except for this.” He reached out to brush his hand across the rock and his hand passed through it.

Kahlan gasped—“Richard!”—then he stumbled back, his mouth and eyes wide with surprise. He lifted his hand. It was normal flesh and bone.  He stepped forward and reached out again, and his hand sank into the rock up to his wrist.

“It’s like it’s not even there,” he whispered.

Kahlan stepped forward as well, expecting her hand to pass through just as easily, but her palm touched solid grey stone. She slid her hand towards Richard’s—maybe there was a certain spot and he’d just lucked into it, but no—the rock was cold and firm beneath her touch.

“I think it’s through there.”

“What?”

“The Stone.” Richard’s eyes were bright, the familiar boyish grin back on his face. “I think we found it. I think it’s right through that wall.” His excitement was contagious, but Kahlan was wary.

“We don’t know what’s on the other side. If there even is anything on the other side.”

“I know we don’t.” Richard turned his gaze back to the rocky wall. “But I just have this feeling that if I step through, it’ll be there.” He shook his head. “I can’t explain it. But I know, Kahlan.”

Kahlan took a deep breath. It wasn’t the first time Richard had asked her to trust him, and he had yet to disappoint. She nodded. “Okay. I don’t like that you’re going to be going through alone…”

He grabbed her hand. “Hold that thought. I want to try something.” He lifted their joined hands to the wall, and Kahlan’s stomach dropped when their hands passed through the wall as if they were simply reaching through smoke.

“How…”

“I think it’s the compass,” Richard said. “I think it was designed to get us here, and then get us through.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Feel like coming with me?”

Kahlan grinned. For the first time in a long time she felt the thrill of impending success. It made her pleasantly lightheaded. She laughed. “Why not?”

With an exaggerated set of his shoulders, Richard stepped through the stone and Kahlan followed, squeezing his hand tight. She closed her eyes as she stepped through, momentarily afraid that she would open her eyes to nothingness, or, worse yet, step through into a free fall. But her feet touched solid ground, and when she opened her eyes she blinked against the sheer brilliance of the sun.

She turned—the rock wall they’d stepped through was nonexistent. She could see perfectly into the familiar forest they’d just left behind, as if the wall had never even existed. Where they stood now was wooded but not wild. It was cultivated and orderly and there was not a rock in sight.

“It’s working,” Richard exclaimed. He held up the compass. “Kahlan, it’s working!”

“Hello.”

Kahlan stifled a scream of surprise. She and Richard turned as one, and she simultaneously tried to shove the Sword of Truth into his hands and draw her own daggers.

There was a man standing in front of them where a moment ago no one had stood. He was young, dressed in a pristine white robe, and his smile was polite but confused. He cocked his head, examining the compass and the sword in Richard’s hands. “Are you the Seeker?”

Richard shifted slightly, putting himself between Kahlan and the man. He nodded. “My name is Richard Cypher. And this—“ he indicated Kahlan with his chin. “This is the Confessor Kahlan Amnell.”

The man bowed politely. He straightened and touched an elegant hand to his chest. “I am Asa. On behalf of my people, welcome to the Valley of Creation.”

* * *

It became very clear, very quickly to Cara that Nicci was only in power because she held the influence of the Keeper over her fellow Sisters’ heads. Whatever reverence they paid her was done out of mockery or fear or sometimes both, but Cara had yet to find one woman that looked to Nicci with the respect reserved for a honored leader. Nicci either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She seemed content with grudging loyalty, something Darken Rahl would never have accepted, and Cara indulged her pride at being brought up as a Mord-Sith. The strict code of discipline and respect that had proven to be such deadly attributes under Darken Rahl’s rule demanded respect, and Cara received it from the sisters in spades. They were frightened of her, yes—it was blatantly obvious from the fearful looks they shot her way as they rode through the forest. It was refreshing for once to feel superior to those around her thanks to her training as opposed to feeling pity. Even Kahlan, sometimes, despite Cara having told her not to, looked at her with sadness in her eyes. They couldn’t help it, she knew. But still, it irked her that they concerned themselves so much with things that couldn’t be changed.

“How much further?” Nicci demanded. The woman had no patience, and from the way she was twisting in the saddle, Cara was fairly certain she was beginning to feel the gentle rock of her horse in her thighs muscles. It served her right, choosing the largest animal to ride. Cara’s own mare was small and spotted, and where Nicci’s stallion was energetic and fitful, Cara’s steed was calm and unflappable. She knew she’d been given the most physically unimpressive animal in the stable out of some ridiculous idea that it would diminish her. It was Nicci’s petty, illogical way of doing things and it helped explain why she’d failed so many times before to stop Richard.

“I thought you were aware of how linking amulets worked,” Cara said.

“I understand the principle. I don’t understand how speed affects the accuracy.”

It didn’t. Cara just wanted to make sure Zedd had a chance to get to Richard and Kahlan before she caught up. Her amulet was constantly warm, which, according to Zedd, meant he was slightly ahead of them. The amulet also pulled slightly—she had only to lean forward, so that it fell free of her neck, to see if they needed to angle themselves more to the left or right—something she had taken to doing every few minutes to adjust their course as much as possible. Nicci was frustrated and her followers were angry that she had chosen to trust a Mord-Sith in the first place and it all worked perfectly in Cara’s advantage.

“You don’t want to catch them by accident,” Cara said. “If we’re as surprised as they are, you run the risk of being beaten.” She paused. “Again.”

Nicci stiffened next to her, and Cara pretended she hadn’t said anything inflammatory.

“Well,” Nicci said, “That’s all going to change, now that we’ve got you on our side to deal with the Wizard.”

“I’m sure he’ll manage to take a few of your girls out before I get to him.” Cara didn’t bother raising her voice. She knew from the nervous looks that passed between the Sisters in front of her that they were listening, and listening closely. She silently dared Nicci to deem that acceptable. A mutiny in the middle of the woods, before they ever even caught up to Richard, would be perfect.

Nicci settled for a bland, “I’m sure you’ll do your best,” and then turned the conversation to Cara’s personal request: the resurrection of Darken Rahl.

“You’re sure his body is no more?”

Cara thought back to the searing explosion of white light following Richard’s use of the Boxes of Orden on Darken Rahl. “Pretty sure.”

Nicci tsked.

“I thought you would just ask the Keeper for a favor. I assumed he would owe you, given how loyal you’ve been in attempting to stop Richard.”

“He will,” Nicci boasted. “I would simply rather do it myself, than bother the Keeper with petty human promises.”

The claim was as much for Cara’s benefit as it was for the rest of the Sisters. It was important that they all remembered that Nicci and Nicci alone held the Keeper’s favor. The rest of them were lucky they had been chosen to help.

“Why do you want Rahl back anyway? I thought you might relish the chance to make your own decisions.”

Trying to back out by making it her own choice. Clever, but obvious. “You don’t understand the bond between a Mord-Sith and the Lord Rahl,” Cara said, and that was all she would contribute. Let Nicci sweat over the how and whys. Keeping Cara happy was in her best interests. All of her dark magic, all of her acquired power meant nothing to a Mord-Sith and Nicci knew it.

“What will you do with the Stone if Richard has it in his possession already?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re going to keep it?”

“I’m going to do whatever the Keeper tells me to do,” Nicci said. She smirked. “Kind of like you and Richard for awhile there.” She extended a hand and brushed it against Cara’s thigh. “Or like you could do for me.”

Cara lifted an eyebrow. She was not in the mood to play this game. “The bond can’t be transferred to someone without Rahl blood,” she said, pointedly ignoring Nicci’s proposition.

Nicci scowled. “I know that. That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“Simply that the two of us, working together, could be a formidable team.”

“We are working together.” Cara fought to keep the irritation from her voice.

“After we stop Richard.”

Cara was silent. She wanted to laugh in Nicci’s face, wanted to point out just how _not_ in control of her own followers she actually was, but instead she shrugged.

“We’ll see.” 

* * *

The temple Asa led them to was little more than a marble floor and pillars rising out of the garden. Everywhere Kahlan looked there was something she’d never seen before. A new plant, a new flower, a new bird… Her look of wonder was echoed in the faces of the men and women gathering slowly in the temple. She felt as if she and Richard were animals on display, and perhaps they were, in a sense. Not one person was dressed in anything other than a perfectly clean white robe, and in that detail she knew she and Richard stood out, what with their brown boots and sweaty, Earth colored clothes… Kahlan had never felt so dirty in her life, and she ran her fingers through her hair nervously, tugging at the snarls.

Richard smiled at her and took her hand. “We’re on a quest to save the world. You look fine.”

A woman with reddish blonde hair stepped around a pillar, and Asa immediately stepped forward, as of she was the very person he’d been waiting for, and spread his arms in welcome. “My fellow children.” He gestured to Kahlan and Richard elegantly. “The Seeker and his Confessor.”

The word choice irked her. They were in a strange land, surrounded by even stranger people, and yet…and yet she found herself most bothered at Asa’s assumption that she was Richard’s. Kahlan shook her head at herself—there was a time and a place for semantics, and this was not it. She inclined her head politely at the bows Asa’s announcement generated in the audience.

“The Veil has been opened and the Seeker has found his way to us,” Asa continued. “Now we prepare for the end of humanity and the return of the Creator.” He turned to Richard and Kahlan, his smile bright and earnest. “You will be safe from the Keeper’s reach here. And when he has been sealed away once more, your children will inherit the Earth.”

Kahlan blinked. Whatever she’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. Next to her, Richard sat up straight.

“Wait. What?”


	20. What Means Solid

Kahlan needed to sleep.

The Eternals exhausted her. They refused to take no for an answer, and their insistence that Richard and Kahlan remain in the valley was mind numbingly consistent. Their politely bland smiles at Richard and Kahlan’s refusal    to agree to stay was almost as bad as their looks of confusion when Richard had explained why.

“But you can stay here,” Asa had said. “You don’t need to seal the rift. It will have no effect on us here.”

“There are other people in the world. Good people,” Richard said. “We can’t just leave them to die.”

But death was not a concept Asa or the other Eternals could comprehend. They smiled and nodded and passed indulgent looks between themselves, obviously confident that all it would take to change Richard and Kahlan’s minds was more time in their perfect valley.

Kahlan pressed her thumbs into her brow. Richard was snoring lightly next to her. He had tried to reassure her that they weren’t staying in the valley, but she’d seen the look in his eyes when Asa had explained that Kahlan’s powers of Confession didn’t work in the valley. She knew he wouldn’t choose the valley over the rest of the world, but if it turned out that it was impossible to leave, then being able to have children with her was a good consolation prize. His goodnight kiss had been particularly long. If there had been actual walls separating the sleeping rooms instead of thin walls of flowering vines, Kahlan wasn’t sure Richard would have stopped with a goodnight kiss.

She needed to sleep. She needed this day to be over. Kahlan closed her eyes, though it did nothing to quiet her mind. Scenario after scenario flitted through her head: her mother and sister gone. Cara and Zedd abandoned, left wondering what had happened to them. The people they’d helped along the way…what was the point of it all, if they all died in the next month?

She couldn’t sleep. There was no way. And yet she found herself dragged back to wakefulness by a burning sensation at her throat.

Kahlan sat up and slapped stupidly at her chest. Her sleep addled brain told her she was slapping at a spark that had popped out of the fire, but with the second slap she remembered where she was. There was no fire and the burning sensation was still there. Her fumbling fingers found the chain around her neck, then the amulet, and Kahlan stifled a cry. It was hot enough to burn. With a sharp jerk, Kahlan broke the chain and held it carefully away from her body. She nudged Richard. When he didn’t stir, she shook his shoulder.

“Richard,” she whispered urgently, “Wake up.”

His eyes opened, and he rolled onto his back. “Kahlan.” He propped himself up on one elbow and blinked furiously. “What is it?”

Kahlan held the amulet aloft. A strange mixture of apprehension and excitement was trickling through her veins. She was wide-awake, all desire to sleep driven from her body. “They’re back.”

* * *

Slipping out was simple enough. The Eternals weren’t security minded, and they’d left Richard and Kahlan completely alone after showing them to their sleeping quarters. They probably couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to leave. Or maybe she wasn’t giving them enough credit. Maybe they knew if Richard and Kahlan did leave, they’d need the Stone of Tears. Which Asa had admitted to having, but had purposefully and politely refused to hand over.

Richard held his sword and its buckles tight to his side as he led the way back to the barrier, taking care to tread silently across the stone floor of the temple. The anticipation building in Kahlan’s chest made stealth almost unbearable. The garden marked the edge of escape, and as soon as her boots touched grass and shadowy branches grabbed at her dress, Kahlan ran. Richard’s urgency matched her own, and side by side they thudded down the path to the barrier. The swish of their clothes was unnaturally loud in the night. There were no nocturnal animals prowling, no insects chirping. She could hear Richard’s breath just as easily as she could her own.

The crescent moon hanging high in the night sky was unnaturally bright, throwing off nearly as much light as a full moon. Kahlan had the uncomfortable feeling borne from unfamiliarity that they had surely run much further than the barrier was located; that once they’d crossed the threshold there was no way back. Then they turned a corner, clearing the foliage, and the barrier stretched before them, mutedly luminescent in the moonlight. At night it looked just as solid as the rock face.

As they neared, they could make out a small, orange light shimmering from the other side. It bounced and swayed, and when Kahlan pressed herself to the barrier alongside Richard she could just make out Zedd’s tall form as he slipped through the trees, a small flame held in the palm of his hand.

He was alone, and Kahlan felt the pit of her stomach fall away.

It doesn’t mean anything, she told herself. Just because she couldn’t see Cara, didn’t mean she wasn’t there somewhere.

“Do you see Cara?” she asked Richard.

He shook his head and pulled the compass from his pocket. “I’ll be right back.”

He stepped through and the barrier closed around him with the slightest of ripples. Kahlan heard him hiss “Zedd!”, his voice muffled as if she was hearing him from under water. Zedd’s response was inarticulate, but she watched as he quickly approached and wrapped Richard in a hug. She heard her own name, saw Richard incline his head, then they passed through the barrier, Zedd’s hand on his grandson’s shoulder. His eyes lit on Kahlan, and his smile was immediate.

“Kahlan.”

She found herself wrapped in his embrace, his travelling robes scratchy and comforting against her cheek. She squeezed him tightly in return.

“I’m so glad you’re here.”

Zedd released her. “You’re not nearly as far as I thought you’d be.”

Kahlan shook her head. “Where’s Cara?”

Zedd hesitated. He looked guilty and sympathetic, and for a moment Kahlan couldn’t breathe. Her panic must have been obvious, because Zedd immediately leapt to reassure her.

“She’s fine. Perfectly fine. She’s on her way here right now. We had to get a little creative with saving the village, and now it seems we probably didn’t need to even bother, but she’s fine.”

“Why are you separated?” Kahlan asked, at the same time Richard asked, “What do you mean, you didn’t need to bother?”

Zedd seemed torn as to which question to answer first.

He didn’t get the chance.

“What are you doing?”

Asa was standing a few feet away, his appearance just as sudden as it had been the day before. He looked equal parts angry and confused, and he eyed Zedd warily.

“Asa, this is Zedd. The wizard that was helping us we told you about,” Richard said. “Zedd, this is—“

“Why is he here?” Asa interrupted. It was the first time he’d been anything close to rude—the first time he’d shown he was capable of rudeness.

It was an impossible question to answer. Without explicitly saying so, Asa and the other Eternals had implied Richard and Kahlan were to be the only people permitted into the valley. Asa’s attitude now reconfirmed that unspoken rule.

Richard fumbled. “We…ah…”

“You can’t just bring people into the valley,” Asa said. He sounded sorry he needed to say it out loud, like he was punishing a very small child. “You’re allowed to be here because the Creator ordains it. But this is not a sanctuary. This is our home.”

“Not our home,” Kahlan interjected. “Your home.”

Asa’s sad eyes fixed on her.

“We can’t stay here, Asa. We won’t stay here. We have a duty to the people of the world, and we can’t just leave them to their fate. Not if we have a chance to save them.”

“You can’t take the Stone,” Asa said. “It was entrusted to us by the Creator. We can’t let it out of the valley, to let it fall into the hands of the Keeper. It would end the world, our valley included.” He shook his head. “We can’t let it out of the valley.”

“You’re scared,” Richard said. It was a realization, not an accusation, but Asa bristled.

“This is my family. You’re asking me to trust you. To say that my family is worth risking—potentially dooming.”

Richard shook his head. He gestured towards the barrier. “It’s what I asked everyone else to do,” he said quietly. “To trust me to save them. Everyone out there—I have a family too, Asa. Kahlan has a family. Zedd has a family. We have friends. You’re asking me to give up on the chance that I could save them, and I can’t do that. I couldn’t live with myself.”

Asa met Richard’s gaze, then looked away.

“I’m asking you to give me a chance,” Richard continued. His voice was pitched low; the convincing tone that had always proven so effective.

Asa was silent for so long Kahlan was sure he was building up a no. Then: “Suppose you fail.”

“Suppose I succeed.”

Asa was wavering. “It’s not just me you need to convince. We make decisions together.”

“All I’m asking for is the chance to talk to them.”

“Expect them to tell you no.” Asa nodded in Zedd’s direction. “Your bringing the wizard here won’t endear you to them.”

“Just give me the chance,” Richard repeated.

Finally, Asa nodded. “Tomorrow. I’ll get them together and you can explain.”

“Thank you, Asa.”

“I think you should return to the temple until then,” Asa continued. “Wizard, you are welcome as well.”

Zedd nodded his thanks, and when Asa turned back down the garden path, Richard fell into step behind him. Kahlan tugged Zedd’s sleeve. “What about Cara?” she whispered.

Zedd reached into his robes and produced a coin wrapped in string to form a sort of makeshift necklace. “It was the best I could do,” he said apologetically. “But she’s on her way. And we have time.”

Kahlan held her hand out, and Zedd dropped the coin into her palm. It was warm, but not uncomfortably so. A tangible connection. “How much time?”

“Tomorrow morning, at the earliest.” Zedd offered her his arm and Kahlan took it, following Richard and Asa back to the temple. Cara’s impending arrival did nothing to ease her nerves. There was so much she wanted to ask Zedd while at the same questioning just how much interest was appropriate to convey. It was natural for her to worry about Cara—they were friends, after all, but how much was too much? At what point would her worry warp from acceptable to suspicious? She wanted to know everything that had happened in the three days they’d been separated to lead to Zedd and Cara splitting up.

But most of all she wanted to go back and sit in front of the barrier and wait.  

She got her opportunity the next morning. Richard and Zedd, she argued, were best suited to convince the Eternals to give up the Stone. Her presence was redundant. She’d do more good acting as lookout.

Sitting alone in front of the barrier gave her the added benefit of worrying inn private. Zedd had been confident that Cara had convinced Nicci and that when the Sisters arrived, Cara would be in their party. Kahlan was not so sure. There was no guarantee that Cara still had the amulet—she would not have given it up voluntarily, but it was an amulet. Easily taken, easily abused. And on top of her worry for Cara, there was the uneasy feeling that they’d been played by Shota. Somehow, someway, the witch had gained something by splitting them up for the past three days. She just hoped it was something that wouldn’t jeopardize their quest.

She sat and brooded, staring through the invisible barrier, and every little sound set her heart pounding with anticipation. At any moment Cara might stomp through the trees, holding the amulet. And what would she think, when she felt the amulet singing her skin, and Richard and Kahlan and Zedd were nowhere in sight? Would she think they’d abandoned her? The thought made Kahlan sick to her stomach. She knew Cara thought them perfectly capable of leaving her behind, and the desire to prove her wrong—and the complete lack of power to do so—made her anxious and nauseous.

A bit of red moved in the corner of her eye, and Kahlan bolted to her feet. She pressed herself against the barrier. It was like being pressed up against an enormous piece of glass. It wasn’t cold to the touch—not exactly—but it was smooth and unfailingly solid under her hands.

Kahlan held her breath, and waited.

And waited.

She waited for so long she was convinced the movement had been a product of her imagination, borne from her desperate desire to see Cara safe.

She sagged, defeated, and then there was another flash. More vibrant than Cara’s leathers, but entirely unnatural in the greens and browns of the forest. Kahlan slid down the barrier, changing her angle, and through the gap of two trees she could make out a small group of Sisters of the Dark approaching, their blood red robes harshly prominent. She needed to call for Richard and Zedd. That was what they’d told her to do. Then Richard would run up and pop out and grab Cara and leave Nicci to blast ineffectively at the barrier.

But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t pull herself away from the barrier—not until she _saw_ , actually _saw_ Cara with her own two eyes.

They were a stone’s throw away in less than a tick, and the overwhelming relief Kahlan felt at seeing Cara in the Sister’s group made her knees weak. Cara stood next to Nicci, her shoulders thrown back, her mouth curled in a confident smirk. Her right hand was bare, and Kahlan recognized the chain of the amulet hanging between her fingers.

She heard Nicci’s voice, distorted and weak, as if she was hearing her from under water.

“Well? Where are they?”

Cara’s green eyes swept across the pile of boulders, across the trees—Kahlan’s breath caught in her throat as Cara’s gaze moved over where she was standing, unseeing. It was the same indifferent look Cara had graced her with during their first few weeks of acquaintanceship. Illogically, it hurt—had it always hurt so badly? She couldn’t remember wanting Cara to look at her—to _see_ her—before. She could see Cara’s face clearly; could see the minute lines of worry creasing her forehead. Was she worried something had happened to them? Did she think they’d abandoned her? Frustrated, Kahlan smacked her hand against the barrier. It made no sound, and that angered her enough to smack it again. To be so close, and to be so ineffective, was infuriating.

Cara turned to face Nicci. Kahlan watched as her shoulders rose and fell. She could imagine the uninterested twist of Cara’s lips.

“The amulet says they are,” Cara said. “They’re here somewhere.”

“The amulet…” Nicci snarled and turned away from Cara. She ripped her veil from her head. It ignited in her palm and burned in a flash, and she flung the ash to the ground in disgust. An uneasy feeling was gathering in the pit of her stomach. Nicci’s body language was dangerously aggressive, and the Sisters that had accompanied Cara and Nicci were subtly hedging the Mord-Sith in. There were eight Sisters, including Nicci, and Kahlan did not like Cara’s odds.

 Nicci whirled to face Cara again, her face red, her mouth turned down with displeasure. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Feel for yourself.” Cara extended her hand.

“Oh, I’m very sure you’ve led us exactly where the amulet told you to. And I’m equally sure that the other half is hanging from a tree or tied to a bear. Not to Richard Cypher.” Nicci strode forward and slapped the amulet from her palm.

“So they caught on,” Cara snapped. “That’s hardly my fault.”

“And yet, I find myself in search of someone to blame.”

Kahlan did not like where this conversation was heading. She twisted nervously on the spot, torn between running for help and not leaving Cara alone.

 “Then blame yourself,” Cara said.

Nicci shook her head sadly. “Unfortunately for you, I do.”

She lifted a hand, her palm open, and Kahlan watched as Cara’s hand moved to her agiel. Then Nicci’s hand closed into a fist, and the tree behind her suddenly sprang into motion. A branch hanging over Nicci’s head lurched forward, doubling in length in the blink of an eye and slamming into Cara, driving her off her feet and against the barrier. Cara cried out and the sound ripped through Kahlan. The branch held her against the rock, pinned, inches away from Kahlan, and it wasn’t until Cara twisted, trying to free herself, that Kahlan saw the blood trickling from her torso; rivers of red dripping down the barrier. The tip of the branch had punctured Cara’s shoulder and passed cleanly through her back. It held her aloft, the wood shattered and splintered and streaked with blood.

“No,” Kahlan whispered in horror. They would kill her. They would kill her and she would be standing less than a foot away, watching the entire thing—

She screamed. She screamed for Richard and Zedd and she pounded her fists against the barrier. She was terrified. Cara’s heels were scraping against the barrier, trying to find purchase to take the weight of her body off of her impaled shoulder, and Kahlan screamed again. She slammed her hand against the barrier. She needed to be out—she needed to save Cara, she couldn’t stand here and watch—

Kahlan ran. Before she was consciously aware of the decision, she was sprinting down the garden path, screaming for Richard.

Later, much later, it would occur to her that she had, without a second thought, put saving Cara above saving the rest of the world. 

* * *

Cara’s hands slipped against the tree branch jutting from her shoulder. Her hands were slick with blood, and her face was hot as she struggled to breathe. It didn’t hurt as much as she was sure it should, which was probably not a good thing, but for the time being she was grateful. She was still thinking clearly.

“Are you surprised?” Nicci smirked. She strode forward proudly and took Cara’s face in her hands. “You look surprised.”

Cara glared back at her. She’d been taken unawares, yes. She was not surprised her subtractive magic hadn’t repelled the tree branch. It wasn’t a direct magical attack, the same way the explosion at her feet weeks ago hadn’t been direct. She’d always known she was vulnerable to creative uses of magic, but Nicci was the first person that’d had the forethought to use it to her advantage.

 With mock gentleness, Nicci dragged her thumb across Cara’s lips. She held the digit up—there was a smear of blood across the pad. Nicci tsked. “That’s not good.”

Cara spat. A spray of blood and spit smacked against Nicci’s cheek. Nicci snarled and slapped her across the face, splitting Cara’s lip and twisting her head to the left. The motion pulled the damaged and punctured muscles in her shoulder, and Cara grit her teeth around a groan to keep from crying out.

“I don’t understand your loyalty to Richard,” Nicci said. She wiped her face casually. “I was being genuine when I offered you the chance to join us.”

“Good for you,” Cara panted. She could not feel the fingers of her right hand. She could see it wrapped around the branch protruding from her body, but she could no longer feel the rough wood. The pain, impeded by the suddenness of Nicci’s attack, was beginning to flare. Cara had been stabbed before. The thin sharpness of the knife did not compare to the jagged roughness of the branch.

“I don’t think the Keeper has room for everyone…you’re making promises to.”

Nicci’s eyes flickered uncertainly. Behind her, several Sisters shifted nervously, casting each other furtive glances. Evidently they’d come to the same conclusion themselves. Nicci forced a smile. She laughed, attempting to sound confident, but it was weak and unconvincing. “Well. You’ll never know now, will you?”

“Keeper’s going to burn the world…rather not…burn with it.”

A muscle under Nicci’s eye twitched. “Go get the horses,” she said.

The Sisters did not move. A tense silence descended, broken only by Cara’s ragged breathing. Nicci looked over her shoulder. “I said go get the horses!” she snapped.

Finally, grudgingly, the Sisters began to move. Nicci did not look at Cara again until the last woman had left her line of sight, and when she did her face was drawn, her eyes dark with fury. She studied Cara for a moment and then her mouth twisted. She swept her arm out, and Cara was wrenched forward. With a sharp jerk, the branch dislodged from her shoulder, and for a moment Cara was airborne. She landed roughly and rolled twice. Pain shot through her, making her head swim and her stomach heave. She screamed, her face pressed into the ground. Her damaged arm was trapped under her, useless. She struggled to breathe as she shakily levered herself up one handed.

“Here.” Nicci’s black boot pressed into her good shoulder. “Let me help you.” She kicked, and Cara flopped weakly onto her back. The world was spinning. She could feel the blood trickling under her leathers, running across her chest, dripping down her arm. Something was rattling in her chest, and when she coughed she tasted the acid tang of blood in the back of her throat.

Nicci crouched next to her. “Do you want to know something?” She reached out and seized Cara’s chin, forcing Cara to meet her gaze. “I actually used to respect you. A Mord-Sith, standing up to Darken Rahl. I don’t need to tell you how often that’s been done.” She shook her head. “You had a world of possibilities open to you. And what do you do?” Nicci shoved Cara’s face as she released her. “You join Richard.” She looked utterly disgusted at Cara’s lack of initiative.

Cara said nothing. Her mortality was slowly dawning on her, and the single thought drowning Nicci out was _not like this_. Not lying on the ground, stabbed by a tree, without ever once putting up a fight. This…this was not how Cara Mason was supposed to die.

“Though I do find it ironic,” Nicci continued, “that Mr. Morality decided to abandon you. His loyal dog. I think I may have underestimated him.” She fell silent, letting her words sink in. The fact that they bothered her, Cara knew, was due to blood loss. She knew Richard and Kahlan and Zedd, and they were not mentally capable of abandoning someone. Even her.

But the fact remained that they were nowhere to be found. This was where the amulet said they were. For one reason or another, they’d chosen to leave her behind, and Cara could not think of a single reason she did not deserve it.

She closed her eyes. A moment later, pain ripped through her shoulder. She screamed and writhed, wrenching her eyes open to find Nicci driving her thumb into the hole in her shoulder.

“Tell me where he is,” Nicci seethed. Her thumb was a white-hot poker. Cara twisted, trying to dislodge herself. She couldn’t breathe. She felt tears leaking from the corners of her eyes and trickling back into her hair. Nicci lifted her hand and the excruciating pain ebbed to a painful throb.

“Tell me, Cara. Tell me, and it all stops.”

Cara turned her head. The simple movement took far more effort than it should have. She smirked, and her split lip pulled. “Right behind you.”

* * *

Kahlan released Richard the moment they stepped through the barrier. The bolt of crackling green light Zedd shot at Nicci’s chest passed Kahlan as she ran, ruffling her hair and throwing Nicci off her feet. Under normal circumstances, she would have enjoyed the look of horrified surprise on Nicci’s face as she realized what was happening, but her focus was completely consumed by Cara, bleeding and limp on the forest floor.

She fell to her knees next to Cara, aware of Richard drawing his sword behind her, anticipating a counter attack. Her own daggers stayed sheathed, her hands moving to gently cradle Cara’s face.

“Cara? Cara, look at me.”

Cara’s green eyes fluttered as she tried to focus on Kahlan’s face. Her breathing was shallow. The hole in her shoulder was ragged and gaping. Her leathers were saturated with blood. Kahlan rubbed her thumb in soothing circles across Cara’s cheek, doing her best to keep her panic at bay, to keep the quaver of fear out of her voice.

“Come on, Cara.”

Cara’s eyes met hers. Her pupils were small with pain, but her mouth moved, and Kahlan saw her own name silently cross Cara’s lips.

“I’m here.” She was crying. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

Cara’s chest shuddered. Pain had chased away her usual stoic mask, and the raw emotion she saw on Cara’s face—the fear, the disappointment—hit her in the gut like a punch.

“Where were you?” Cara’s voice was barely more than a stilted whisper.

“We were here,” Kahlan reassured her. “We couldn’t get through, but I saw—Cara, I’m so sorry—“

“Kahlan, let me see.” Zedd pulled her away from Cara gently but firmly, his hands moving immediately to the hole in her shoulder. His left shone white even as his right pulled her leathers back, exposing the full gaping horror that was Cara’s shoulder.

Kahlan couldn’t breathe. She could see the veins of Cara’s eyelids as they fluttered. She would be okay, she told herself. Zedd was there. She would be okay.

She was vaguely aware of Richard wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close. “Are you alright?”

Kahlan nodded numbly. A lie. She was not okay.

She was shaking as the panic drained from her system. The aftermath of adrenaline made her sick to her stomach. Her visceral reaction to Cara being injured, instinctual in the moment, now terrified her almost as much as watching helplessly as Nicci attacked.

She was not okay at all.


	21. The Space Between

Zedd helped Cara to sit up, guiding her gently until her back was pressed solidly against the trunk of a tree. Cara was breathing hard, her face pale and dotted with sweat. It made Kahlan anxious. Besides being conscious and no longer bleeding, she looked just as poorly as she had lying on the ground.

Zedd crouched next to her again and probed her shoulder with careful fingers.

“Is there any pain?”

Cara, eyes closed, shook her head slowly.

Zedd moved a hand to Cara’s armpit and slowly lifted her arm straight out to the side.

“Rotate your hand, please.”

Cara did so and Zedd removed his supporting hand, watching her arm intently for any sign of weakness or shaking.

“Can you lift it over your head?”

Dutifully, Cara lifted her hand straight into the air, her elbow locked.

“Good.” Zedd wiped a few stray leaves from his knees and stood. “Luckily for you, I’m just as good at repairing muscles and nerves as I remember.”

Cara exhaled heavily. “Thank you, Zedd.”

Zedd reached down and ruffled her hair affectionately. “Don’t mention it.”

“That was the last time, I promise.” She opened her eyes. “The other Sisters. The ones Nicci brought. They’re around here somewhere.”

“We’ll take care of it,” Richard reassured her. “Zedd and I will go see if they’re close. Kahlan? Do you mind staying with Cara just in case?”

“Of course,” Kahlan said quietly.

“What if you go North and they come from the South? What then?” Cara said with unconvincing bravado.

“Well,” Richard slid his thumbs along his belt. “Where did you leave the horses?”

Cara scowled. “North.”

“Then that’s where we’ll go. We won’t go far. Shouting distance.”

Kahlan waited until she was sure Richard and Zedd were out of ear shot before speaking. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Cara rolled her shoulder, carefully avoiding eye contact. “I’m pretty pleased with it as well.”

“When I saw that branch go through your shoulder—“

Cara’s head jerked up. “You saw that?”

“I was standing right there—“

“And you didn’t do anything?!?”

“I couldn’t!” Kahlan protested. “I couldn’t get through!”

Cara's forehead furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Kahlan stared at her, confused. “You saw us.” She pointed at the rock face that was the barrier’s worldly camouflage. “You saw us come through. Didn't you?”

It was Cara’s turn to look confused. “That wasn’t Zedd?”

“That was the Eternals.”

Cara closed her eyes and dropped her head against the tree. She sighed. “I don’t think I want to know.”

“Probably not,” Kahlan admitted. Part of her was relieved. If Cara didn’t want to know, she didn’t have to explain how she’d burst into the temple, frantic, calling for Richard. She wouldn’t have to explain Asa trying to shush her, or the tight feeling in her temples, the shortness of breath, the impending feeling of Confession even though she hadn’t called the magic forth. The Con Dar, creeping through her body, narrowing her vision…

Kahlan mentally shook herself. She’d held it back. That was the important thing.

She swept her dress to the side and sat next to Cara.

“Sitting is not good for being on guard,” Cara said, but she did not shift away from Kahlan despite the fact that their shoulders were solidly touching.

“So we’ll be caught by surprise. It’ll even the odds.”

Cara hummed in agreement. They fell into a comfortable silence, and Kahlan realized just how much she’d missed having Cara nearby for the past few days. She couldn’t explain it. Time alone with Richard had felt odd. Lonely. Sitting quietly with Cara felt natural. Kahlan saw the difference. Even acknowledged it to herself—the difference, not the meaning behind the feeling. That she wasn’t completely sure of. Certainly not sure enough to say it out loud.

She dropped her head onto Cara’s shoulder, and Cara let her. “I missed you.”

Cara was quiet, but where she would normally have scoffed at Kahlan’s confession, Kahlan considered it a small victory that she said nothing at all.

“Richard has the Stone,” Kahlan continued. “It took him a whole day to convince these people to give it to him.” That wasn't exactly true, but Cara didn't need to know the particulars. The Eternals hadn't handed the Stone over until she'd barged into the temple on the verge of confessing them all. That had gotten them moving--anything to get Kahlan out of their valley before she combusted. She laughed hollowly, thinking back to her frustration at Asa’s inability to understand their urgency and how simple the ultimate solution had been. “The whole time I kept thinking, ‘Just let Cara convince them’, and then I’d remember that you weren’t there.”

“Finally. Somebody appreciates what I bring to the group.”

Kahlan smiled to herself. Cara’s hand was bare, resting on the grass between them. Absently, before she quite realized what she was doing, Kahlan reached out one finger and traced the back of Cara’s hand from her wrist to the edge of her knuckles. She repeated the gesture twice more before she stilled, suddenly realizing how intimate the unconscious contact was. Cara was motionless, her head still dropped back against the tree. Her hand moved—to pull away, Kahlan thought, her stomach sinking, and then she felt Cara’s wrist turning, offering her palm—

 A branch snapped. There was a rustle of leaves and Kahlan shot to her feet, daggers unsheathed. Next to her, Cara laboriously rolled into a crouched position.

“It’s us!” Richard called. He emerged, shoving aside the thick branches of a berry bush. He was leading Nicci’s horse by the reins. A moment later, Zedd followed, leading the horse that Cara had ridden.

“These guys were tied up,” Richard said. He patted the horse’s neck. “From the looks of the tracks back there, I’d say the Sisters took off.” He shrugged. “Maybe they saw us take Nicci out.”

Cara stood slowly. “I think a mutiny is more likely.” She gestured towards Nicci’s body. “If they were still loyal, they would have asked for her body.”

Richard nodded. “True. Still, we got two free horses out of the whole thing.” He and Zedd looped the reins over a low hanging branch. “Zedd and I are going to take care of Nicci’s body. Kahlan, will you get our packs and put some of the heavier stuff in the saddlebags?”

“Of course.”

Kahlan moved away, and Cara stood awkwardly alone without direction. She knew what Richard was doing, just as certainly as she knew that she would be one of the first to ride the horses. He was making sure she was okay, that she saved her strength, that she didn’t push herself. Which was ridiculous. Besides being a little shaky and slow, Cara was fine. She knew it was due to the blood loss. She’d been stabbed before, and now that the hole was closed, it was simply a matter of time until she felt completely normal. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be helpful now.

Zedd and Richard were crouched over Nicci’s body, carefully looking for any spells or talismans that would blow up in their faces once they lit a fire. Cara gingerly made her way towards the horses. She could go through the saddlebags while Kahlan sorted through the packs. Nicci had packed food, which they would certainly keep, but Cara had noticed several books and pieces of jewelry that they could probably do without.

She stroked the velvety nose of her horse and he tossed his head with what she chose to believe was familiar affection. He should appreciate the fact that she hadn't burdened him with ridiculous, unnecessary weight. Where Nicci’s saddlebags were bursting at the seams, her own were barely used. There was half a load of bread, some dried fruit, and the clothes Kahlan had picked out for her what felt like an eternity ago. Her bedroll was tied to the back of the horse’s saddle. She slipped between the horses, trailing a hand across each of their shoulders as she did so. Their ears flicked towards her as she began unbuckling Nicci’s saddle bag, then Nicci’s body lit with a muted _fwoosh_ and their attention was diverted forward again by the fire.

There were two leather bound books crammed in the top of Nicci's saddlebag. Cara pulled them out and dropped them on the ground, followed by a gold necklace and a pair of black leather riding gloves. And really, did one woman really need three different pairs of identical red robes? Cara dragged them out one after another like a magician producing handkerchiefs, disgusted at the total waste of valuable space. Something heavy was caught in the folds, and it thumped to the ground at her feet with a metallic clink. She glanced down. Apparently Nicci needed a new circlet for her veil to go with her fresh robes.

Cara kicked the circlet away with the toe of her boot.

It fell open and remained upright, pinned in a sort of ‘m’ shape by a hinge.

She felt her chest constrict. She dropped the robes and seized the thin metal band. It was smooth in her hands, the inside transcribed with delicate ruins she didn’t know how to read but nonetheless recognized.

 Nicci had a Rada’Han.

Of course she did. It made perfect sense. Cara almost laughed at the stupid simplicity of it. Here she was, telling herself that if they ever made it to another town she’d spend her day scouring every nook and cranny, every merchant’s wares for the magic suppressing collar, only to have one practically fall into her lap.

She stared at the necklace, scarcely believing her good luck. Her chest felt tight with rising exhilaration. She could only imagine the look on Kahlan’s face when she showed her—

“What’d you find?”

Just as quickly as it had come on, Cara’s excitement vanished. She turned slowly to face Richard. He was smiling at her, his face open and honest with boyish curiosity.

In the split second before she opened her mouth, several responses flew through Cara’s mind. She could try for ‘nothing’. She could lie and try to hide the Rada’Han. The desperate, frantic urge to keep it from Richard was all-consuming, and she didn’t need to self-examine too closely to understand why. She wanted to use it. She’d gotten caught up in Kahlan’s fantasy to suppress her powers—so much so that she’d not truly thought about what finding the Rada’Han would mean. If she could not be confessed, then neither could Richard. All of her weak reasons as to why it should be her and not Richard that took the risk were no longer relevant. He and Kahlan could be together. No more excuses, no more danger. In the blink of an eye, she’d become redundant. And why should she feel disappointed? She’d known all along that eventually it would come to this. Richard was always going to win over her. The disappointment made no sense. Nor did the desire to hide the Rada’Han. The urge to unsettle the future Richard and Kahlan would no doubt pursue was so sudden and so persistent that it frightened Cara into forcing herself to hold her hand out and let Richard see for himself.

He frowned, his eyes shifting over the thin piece of metal she offered him, then his eyes widened.

“Is that…?” he breathed. He reached out quickly and took the collar from her hands. He closed it; it locked with a quiet click, a perfect circle.

“A Rada’Han. Cara…” Richard lifted his gaze slowly. His eyes were light with excitement. Cara ignored the sick feeling in her stomach. “You found a Rada’Han!” Richard exclaimed.

Faster than she could react, Richard wrapped her in a tight embrace. She could feel him trembling with barely controlled glee, then he stepped back, his eyes back on the fine circle of silver, staring at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world. He ran a hand through his hair. “Thank you,” he said emphatically.

Cara shrugged, as if he had nothing to thank her for. Richard caught her by the arm.

“No, really. Thank you.” He shook his head. “I never thought…”

She did not want to know what he thought. She wanted to not be here. She wanted Rada’Hans to never even have been invented.

“It’s fine, Richard.”

He squeezed her forearm, and then he turned, a broad smile splitting his face.

“Kahlan!”

Kahlan turned at the sound of her name. She spotted Richard and Cara, and she smiled. Richard looked overjoyed. Cara looked…odd. Like she was about to be sick. She stood, the smile fading from her face, and made her way towards them. Cara probably shouldn’t be standing, but she was stubborn and Kahlan had let her get her way. She shouldn’t have; she should have insisted Cara take it easy—

Richard practically leapt out from between the horses and lifted her off of her feet, pressing a hard, passionate kiss to her lips that took her completely by surprise.

“Richard!” she gasped, “What in the world—“

“I have a Rada’Han,” he announced breathlessly. He lifted his right hand. The fine metal hung loosely from his wrist.

Kahlan felt her stomach drop. “Is that really—“

“Yes.”

Richard’s mouth was back on hers. Kahlan forced back her shock and returned the kiss. “How?” she demanded once they’d broken apart.

“Cara found it,” Richard explained, turning and gracing her with a broad, grateful smile. Cara met his gaze evenly, thought Kahlan could practically see the waves of tension radiating off of her. Her green eyes flicked to Kahlan’s momentarily—a split second of barely controlled frustration—before she looked away and refused to look at Kahlan again.

Richard’s arm was around her waist, his fingers stroking her side excitedly. “A Rada’Han, Kahlan,” he breathed reverently, like the word held everything they’d ever hoped for. He bent and kissed her neck and Cara turned her head.

 _Look at me,_ Kahlan willed her desperately. _Just look at me…I didn’t ask for this, this isn’t what I meant—_

“I’ll tell Zedd you two will be sharing a room tonight if we find an inn,” Cara said calmly. She turned her back to them and walked away.

Richard laughed nervously as he gently turned Kahlan to face him. His brown eyes were bright with joy, and she hoped to the Creator that her face wasn’t showing any of the desperate indecision she was feeling.

“Can you believe it?” Richard asked, his voice pitched low. Kahlan did not trust herself to speak. She shook her head.

Richard touched his thumb to her jaw. “I never thought…” He shook his head, a bemused smile crossing his face.

“Neither did I,” Kahlan replied honestly. And it was true. She loved Richard, but talking about marriage and having a family…that was just talk. It was safe, because past experience had told her it was never going to happen. And now it was, and she felt…indifferent. No, worse than indifferent. She felt slightly repulsed. But wasn’t this what she wanted? Wasn’t this what she was supposed to have?

Richard kissed her again, and Kahlan squeezed her eyes shut, searching for that old spark in the pit of her stomach. She could do this. She could find that part of her again. She could force the passion and desire Richard had once ignited in her back to the forefront.

She could forget the flat, abandoned look on Cara’s face when she’d turned her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Just kidding!


	22. The Knotted Cord's Untying

With the Stone safely in Richard’s pocket, their days of carving a trail through the woods were past. The main road was open to them, and Zedd’s didactic memory of every map he’d ever seen once again became relevant. He had a general idea of where they were and where the Pillars of Creation were, and his vagueness became certainty when they crested a hill and found the green of the earth fade into the deep blue expanse of an ocean several leagues away.

“The Nedril,” Zedd said, evidently pleased to find them so far South. The ocean stretched before them, fading into a haze of atmosphere in all directions. “We’re a few hours from Tanimura.”

Cara nodded absently. She’d never been so far south in her life; had never seen so much water. She’d heard of the ocean that created the Southern border of the Midlands, but it had always been an abstract idea, the same as snow during winter. Zedd clicked his horse forward, and Cara’s shifted to follow, but she held the reins tight, trying to reconcile the sheer vastness that stretched before her. She felt small. The uncertainty of what lay beyond that haze, the possibility of lands unseen both frightened and excited her.

“It’s big, isn’t it?” Richard stood at her side, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Yes,” Cara replied simply. She’d been actively trying to avoid him, and he had been actively placing himself in her company out of felicity for her finding the Rada’Han. It had been a trial in patience. When he wasn’t with her, he was with Kahlan, finding some excuse to touch her hair or hold her hand, and Cara was having a hard time deciding what she found more irritating: Richard talking to her or Richard touching Kahlan.

“I’ve never been this far South before,” Richard admitted. “Have you?”

“No,” Cara said. Richard nodded sagely, as if she’d imparted some grand token of wisdom with her one word answer. Cara fought the urge to slip her boot from the stirrup and kick him in the head. She was angry with him, and he’d done nothing to deserve it. She was angry that he’d gotten to show Kahlan the Rada’Han, which in essence meant she was angry at herself for giving it to him, and still angrier at herself for being angry. She needed to hit something, and Richard was dangerously close to being it, so she loosened her hold on the reins and allowed her horse catch up to Zedd.

“Where are the Pillars in relation to Tanimura?” she asked, sidling up beside Zedd. Her horse dragged its head against the reins to nuzzle its companion’s neck.

“About a week’s ride North.”

“So why are we going south, exactly?”

“Tanimura is the crossroads of the Southern lands. It’s the home of the Palace of the Prophets—“

Cara groaned.

“ _And_ ,” Zedd overrode her, “there are major roads that stretch to all parts of D’Hara.”

“Major roads,” Cara repeated. “You mean big, accommodating inns dripping with every luxury known to man.”

“They do cater to the occasional Wizard,” Zedd acknowledged. “And I thought we might all enjoy the chance to sleep in a comfortable bed. Maybe even sleep in our own rooms.” He raised an eyebrow suggestively, and his wrinkled face broke into a grin.

Cara rolled her eyes—an appropriate, Cara response to Zedd apparently wanting to perpetuate the baby making—but she tasted bile in the back of her throat. She’d never been a good loser, and this felt an awful lost like losing. Except…losing implied she’d wanted to win, which was not true. It was a problem of wounded pride. That was all.

“It’s home to Briar House,” Zedd was saying, “the most famous inn in all the Midlands.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Which is proof only of your ignorance and not a reliable indicator of the establishment’s prominence,” Zedd retorted loftily.

“If they let you stay there, they can’t be all that great.”

“This is how you talk to the man who saved your life not two hours ago!”

“I said thank you once; that’s all you’ll get from me.”

Zedd muttered something about gratitude. Cara ignored him. She was just irritated enough to launch into an argument about just how _grateful_ she was supposed to be, and why she should be any more _grateful_ than Kahlan or Richard would have been, had they been the ones needing to be healed. Wasn’t he _supposed_ to heal her? Wasn’t she an equal part of the group? Being grateful implied that Zedd could have taken or left her, and she was just frustrated enough to accuse him of just that. Deep down she knew he was teasing, trying to reestablish their easy camaraderie, but she was not in the mood to be teased. Not with Richard and Kahlan hanging off of each other ten steps behind.

To her credit, Kahlan was trying to be discreet. Which had, of course, irritated Cara, because it implied that she was bothered by the fact that Kahlan was kissing Richard, which implied that she would rather be the one kissing her, and that was not true at all. She wasn’t capable of constructing the type of relationship Kahlan and Richard had. She was good at casual. She _liked_ casual. Monogamy, openness, honesty…those were not things Cara Mason had been trained how to do. Convincing herself she could learn was only setting herself up for a miserable failure.

She was who she was, and who she was had worked pretty well so far.

The edges of Tanimura curled out to meet them; a smattering of houses that condensed as they approached the port city. The dirt road widened as they travelled, and for the first time in months they passed other human beings that did not spare them a second glance.

The number of people on the road increased, the size of the houses increased, and then the noise of the city hit them. People shouting, the clattering of horse hooves, mules braying, and above it all the high-pitched caw of pure white birds.

Cara gestured upwards at a small pack of the wheeling birds. “What are those?”

“Seagulls,” Zedd said, following the direction of her finger. “They’ll snatch your lunch right from your hand, the greedy things.”

“Creator forbid, right Zedd?” Richard said jokingly.

The bottomless pit jokes were old. Cara squeezed her knees against her horse’s sides, silently urging him ahead of Zedd, hoping to drown their conversation out with the noise of the city.

The streets were cobbled and smooth with wear. There was a distinct lack of stall merchants shouting and selling as they passed—most of them had their own buildings with elaborate signs hanging overhead. Townhouses were squeezed together, stretching vertically to make up for the lack of space. It was cramped without feeling claustrophobic, Cara noted. Many cities she’d visited with large populations were dank and dirty and felt too small to house the number of people that inhabited it. Tanimura felt well organized and clean. There were city guards patrolling, women and men milling, children shouting and chasing each other around a large fountain in the town square, and rising above it all was the clean white sails of ships hidden by the tall buildings.

She felt an undeniable urge to follow the road to the docks, to see a ship—to see the ocean up close and personal—for the first time in her life. She could smell it in the air—a warm, salty freshness that was so different from the forests she’d come accustomed to.

“Briar House is just to your left,” Zedd said, interrupting her thoughts. “There are stable hands that will care for the horses for us; all we have to do is rent our rooms.”

Cara dismounted and fell into line behind Zedd. She handed her reins to the waiting stable hand—a boy of about thirteen—who tipped his three-pointed hat to her. “Saddlebags brought in or left in the stables, marm?”

“Left in the stables, I should think,” Zedd decided for her. “If we need them we’ll send for them.”

“Very good sir.” The boy clicked his tongue encouragingly at the horses and led them away.

“You’re sure that’s safe?” Kahlan voiced the question that was on the tip of Cara’s tongue.

“Perfectly safe,” Zedd assured her. He held the inn’s door open for them. “A guard is stationed in the stables at all times. If anything goes missing, his job is forfeit. And believe you me, the job is not one someone would risk losing for a trinket.”

Cara hung back, and Zedd gestured her through. She shook her head. They were going to work out the rooms, and she did not care to be present for that. She needed to be alone for a few hours, and there was nothing like a new city to explore to use as a distraction. “I’m going to see the docks.”

Zedd frowned. “If you’ll wait a moment, I’m sure Richard and Kahlan—“

Cara shook her head, cutting him off. “They can see it together. I’d rather explore at my own pace.”

“You should rest—“

“I rested the whole way here. I need to stretch my legs.” She waved and turned away before Zedd could offer another argument, heading straight for the towering masts in the distance. She forced herself to walk casually, lest it look like she was attempting to get away from them. She half expected Richard to call after her to wait up, that he was going to join her, and it was only until she’d purposefully put several large groups of townspeople between her and the inn that she allowed herself to breath easily. Avoidance was not a solution, she knew that, but it was infinitely easier than forcing herself to build up an immunity. 

* * *

 There was no reason to worry about Cara.

She was a big girl.

They were in a city that essentially existed outside of the issues plaguing the rest of D’Hara.

The only Sisters around were Sisters of the Light.

If Zedd and Richard weren’t worried, she shouldn’t be worried.

Kahlan dropped her head into her right hand. It was no use. She’d been repeating the same lines for most of the night, and they did nothing to reassure her. Until she saw Cara walk through the inn’s front doors, she knew she was doomed to a night of fidgeting anxiousness.

And irritation.

From the moment Zedd had entered the inn without Cara behind him, Kahlan had been increasingly irritated with her. They needed to talk, and instead of facing her, Cara had slipped away. Whatever Cara thought avoidance insinuated—acceptance, indifference—Kahlan was dead set against drawing her own conclusions. If Cara’s absence was supposed to mean something, then Kahlan wanted to hear exactly what that was from Cara’s mouth.

“Hey.” Richard’s arm snaked around her wrist. He’d been touching her consistently all day, and Kahlan knew why. He was feeling amorous. And he assumed she was as well because she’d never said anything to indicate she might not want to sleep with him if the opportunity ever arose.

Kahlan twisted and gave her best attempt at a smile. Richard leaned in and kissed her temple.

“You seem kind of out of it. Are you okay?”

Kahlan lifted one shoulder. The inn’s bar was crowded, but not obnoxiously so. There were no rowdy drunks spilling beer, and there were a few tables that burst out in raucous laughter every once in awhile. It was all very comfortable and warm and safe feeling, and still Kahlan couldn’t relax. “Just tired, I guess.”

Richard grinned and dipped his head, resting his chin on her shoulder and staring up at her through his long lashes. The candles lit along their table made his brown eyes twinkle. “Want to go upstairs?”

She lifted one hand and ruffled his hair. “Not yet.” She needed more alcohol in her before they went upstairs. Richard wanted to have sex. They _needed_ to have sex. There was a desperate, scared feeling in the pit of her stomach. Definitely not the heady arousal she’d once felt when Richard kissed her. She felt unhinged, floating between what she wanted and what had been for so long, and if she could just find her balance again…Richard deserved better than just a sudden, unexplainable deficiency in affection.

Richard’s hand—rough and calloused—stroked the bare skin of her forearm. It was easy to reach across and take his hand in hers, to intertwine their fingers, to pretend that they were still on their way to find the Boxes of Orden. Still completely wrapped up in each other.

Richard rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand. “Kahlan, I lo—“

The slamming of the bar door against the wall interrupted Richard, cutting off all conversation, and Cara strode in, shoulders thrown back, smirking cockily, and wearing the clothes Kahlan had picked out for her so long ago in the back of the merchant’s cart.

Kahlan felt her stomach pitch and roll. Before she realized she was moving, she’d half stood. To do what, she had no idea. She sank back onto the bench, shaken. Next to her, Richard was shaking his head and chuckling to himself.

“She can’t just walk into a room,” he said, “have you noticed? She always has to make a scene.”

“No,” Kahlan lied. “I haven’t.” But her eyes were fixed on Cara as she headed towards the bar. She’d found a pair of boots—black leather and reaching to just below her knees—to go with her cream-colored shirt and grey-blue pants. Without the harsh glint of light reflecting from her leathers Cara looked softer, but her fluid movements shrouded in the inauspicious clothing made her look even more dangerous than normal.

Kahlan was so fixed on Cara that she didn’t notice the young man following her through the barroom until Cara leaned against the bar and he draped himself across her back. There was an angry spike that shot through Kahlan’s chest, and for a moment she saw red. She watched Cara’s profile, watched her smile wildly, watched her arch herself back into the muscled embodiment of masculinity that was moving his hands across her hips possessively.

Richard lifted his tankard and hummed knowingly. Kahlan grit her teeth.

“What is she doing?” she seethed.

Richard cleared his throat awkwardly. “Um…”

Kahlan stood. She didn’t need Richard to explain to her what Cara was doing—she could see that for herself. What she wanted to know was why, and he was too obtuse to see any reason besides a singular night’s amusement.

Richard snagged her hand. “Kahlan, let her be.”

“I’m just going to make sure her little playmate knows what he’s getting into,” Kahlan replied tersely. She pulled her hand free.

Richard laughed and gestured towards the bar. “I think he knows what he’s getting into.”

Kahlan turned. Cara was holding a tankard of ale to the young man’s mouth. He was doing his level best to drink it all, but a good deal was running down his neck and soaking his shirt. Cara dropped the empty tankard to the bar and dragged the man forward. She fixed her mouth to his neck, sucking the spilled ale from his skin. The men seated at the bar cheered, and the young man raised his muscled arms in victory.

Kahlan’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t drag her eyes away. Something that felt very much like jealousy was wringing her stomach. She felt like she was on the verge of something dangerous, something she couldn’t take back, and then Cara moved her head, her mouth still roaming the man’s neck, and made eye contact with Kahlan. She held it just long enough for Kahlan to be certain it was done on purpose, then she closed her eyes and brought her hands up to pull the man’s shirt from his pants. The message could not have been clearer. Cara wasn’t caught up in what they’d done. Cara had no problem—and no trouble—with finding someone new. Kahlan had been convenient. No matter how much she wished it to be otherwise, she was simply the only available conquest in their group. She felt the burn of the snub and hated herself for it. She’d been fooling herself, thinking there could be more. Cara wasn’t capable of more.

But what did it matter, in the end? Maybe Cara had felt some sort of attachment, maybe she hadn’t. It had always been a temporary arrangement until she and Richard had worked things out. And now, thanks to the Rada’Han, things were worked out. She reached down and squeezed Richard’s shoulder. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

He nodded eagerly, downed his tankard, and stood hurriedly. He wiped his upper lip with the back of one hand and took Kahlan’s hand in the other and led her towards the stairs. Out of the corner of her eye, Kahlan saw Cara’s blonde head turn in their direction. Kahlan very purposefully kept her eyes forward. If Cara could sever ties so quickly, then so could she.

* * *

 “I can’t,” Kahlan realized, and it was only when Richard stopped undressing and looked at her that Kahlan realized she’d spoken aloud.

His forehead furrowed. His cheeks were flushed. “What?”

Kahlan closed her eyes. She’d said it and, even worse, she’d meant it. There was no backing out now. She felt horribly exposed, standing only in her slip, the Rada’Han clipped coldly around her neck.

“I can’t,” she repeated quietly. She could imagine Richard’s broken look; his pleading, tear filled eyes...she couldn’t bring herself to look and see it for real.

He’d started kissing her the second the door closed behind them. His beard had pricked and grated and did nothing except remind Kahlan of how completely beardless Cara’s face was, and how her face was probably pressed up against someone else’s at that moment, and it had all gone downhill from there. It just felt…wrong.

Richard was silent. She heard him moving closer and then she felt his arm on her bare arm. She bit her lip and brought her hands to her face, then shook her head.

“Hey,” Richard said soothingly. “Hey. Kahlan, look at me.” He brushed her hair behind her ears, and the tender gesture immediately brought guilty tears to her eyes. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes. Everything was falling apart. She could feel it; she knew exactly what it would take to put everything back to normal, and she couldn’t do it.

Richard was rubbing her back. He deserved to know the truth, but what truth was that? That she was falling for Cara? That even without having Cara in the picture, they didn’t work anymore?

“Does it hurt?” Richard murmured.

Kahlan nodded, desperately grasping at whatever excuse she could find to explain away her reluctance.

“I feel…” The loss of access to her Confessor magic was noticeable, but nothing that warranted the pain Richard obviously assumed she was under. It was only a slight discomfort, not dissimilar to the sensation she felt after cutting her fingernails. She shook her head. “I feel like it’s choking me,” she forced out. “I don’t…I don’t feel…I’m sorry. I can’t do it. Not if it feels like this.”

She dropped her hands when she felt Richard’s fingers against her neck. He released the Rada’Han’s clasp and lifted it away. She heard a thump when it landed on the bed, then Richard slowly turned her to face him. He kissed her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he said quietly. His brown eyes were earnest and empathetic, and Kahlan had to bit her cheek to keep from dissolving into tears. “It’s okay,” Richard repeated. He pulled her into a strong hug, stroking her hair reassuringly. “We’ll figure something else out. I promise.”

Kahlan pressed her face into his shoulder.

That was exactly what she was afraid of. 

* * *

The young man she’d decided to screw was easy—easy to seduce, easy to arouse—he was a sailor, one could hardly expect him to be anything else. He was fit, which meant he’d probably be able to keep up with her. In short, he was everything Cara had been looking for.

The problem was herself.

She was having a hard time staying focused. She was certainly aroused—the idea of sleeping with a man after so long of only kind of sleeping with a woman had sparked a lazy fire in her. But she was looking—constantly looking—at the door over her young stud’s shoulder. She kept imagining Kahlan barging in, a look of stern disapproval and righteous possessiveness on her face. Then she’d stalk over to the bed and tell the man to get out, and Cara would lie back against the pillows and Kahlan would press her down into the mattress—

A wave of irritation swept through her. One night. Just one night of sex with someone new to get Kahlan out of her head, and she couldn’t even manage that. She growled in frustration, suddenly annoyed by the movement between her legs. She sat up and pulled away from her enthusiastic conquest.

“What is it?” he panted as Cara rolled away. “What? Do you want to try a different—“

Cara threw his shirt into his face, silencing the question. “Out,” she said.

He looked at her like she was insane. “What?”

Cara flicked her fingers at him. “I’m done. Out.”

He laughed. He was too relaxed, and that irritated her even more. She was not someone he could just laugh at and not expect some sort of punishment.

“You’re not done. I would have felt—“

Cara’s shot him a withering glare, immediately silencing him. He cowered, and she felt a glimmer of satisfaction. He rubbed his head. “I mean…whatever. Fine.” He avoided her gaze as he collected the rest of his clothes and fled, not bothering to button his shirt or pants before hurrying into the hall.

Cara flopped heavily against her pillows, wallowing in self-loathing. What good was a distraction if she didn’t let herself be distracted? Now all she had to do was lie here, alone, and imagine Richard and Kahlan—

She sat up and ripped her hands through her hair. The pain was a welcome outlet. She’d been fooling herself into thinking she wasn’t preoccupied with Kahlan and Richard’s impending consummation for most of the day, and she did not enjoy the constant feeling of jealous possessiveness she’d been dealing with. She’d been sleeping with one person too long, and now she was acting like Kahlan was hers. She’d even fooled herself into thinking that wearing Kahlan’s outfit was just replacing leathers that were ripped and bloody for something more presentable instead of what it actually was: a desperate attempt to distract Kahlan from Richard. It was stupid and not well thought out—she’d wanted Kahlan to be jealous, and for a moment it had looked like she was, and then Kahlan had gone upstairs without a single backwards glance, leaving Cara as the sole jealous one.

Cara wanted to hit someone. She settled for pummeling her pillow. Kahlan was with Richard, and it was stupid to be angry about that, stupid to think she could change it.

She was a Mord-Sith.

Did she honestly think, given the choice, Kahlan would choose her?

* * *

 Cara was not in her room when Kahlan peeked through the crack of the door early the next morning. She’d mentally prepared herself for the possibility that Cara’s young man would be curled up with her in the bed, and the relief she felt at this not being the case made her knees weak. Still, the evidence that Cara hadn’t slept there at all—perfectly made bed—made Kahlan’s stomach twist sickly. She closed the door and contemplated returning to Richard’s room. She didn’t want to—didn’t want to face the searching glances and questions in the light of day. Richard had been perfectly supportive and understanding, and that had only made her more guilty and miserable. She’d slept poorly, wrapped up in her own thoughts, and she was no closer to sorting her affections out.

She leaned against the wall with a sigh. Apparently today wasn’t going to be any better.

The innkeeper interrupted her thoughts as he backed out of a narrow door towards the end of the hall, his arms laden with several wool blankets. He brightened when he saw Kahlan.

“Ah, good. You’re awake. Your friend asked for these a moment ago. Do you mind taking these out to the barn for me?” He smiled winningly, as if her help would be the highlight of his day, but surely he was mistaking her for someone else.

“My friend? Isn’t everyone still sleeping?”

He shook his head. “That blonde one. She said she was in your party. She’s packing the saddle bags in the stables.” He held the blankets out to Kahlan. “She said you needed new ones.”

Kahlan took the offered blankets stupidly, not quite sure which direction her brain wanted her to take. “Right. Yes. Okay.”

“You’re a big help,” the innkeeper praised. He pivoted and drummed down the stairs.

So. Cara was awake.

First and foremost, Kahlan felt apprehension.

Cara undoubtedly had her own assumptions about what the Rada’Han had been used for last night, and Kahlan wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to prove her wrong. Cara had gone after the young man, after all. What would it say if Kahlan went running after her, professing her faithfulness when none had been requested?

She knew exactly what it would say—that she was attached. That she considered what she and Cara were doing was serious and legitimate, on par with what she’d had with Richard.

Kahlan dropped her head against the wall. It _had_ gotten serious—at least for her—without her ever even realizing it. She’d practically flown into Con Dar at the sight of Cara bloodied and limp. If that wasn’t proof enough she’d gotten in over her head, Kahlan didn’t know what was. But if she ever admitted that to Cara…the possible reactions weren’t promising.

There was always the option of half-truths, though. They could continue sleeping together without exchanging any other intimacies—she’d done it thus far. But she felt like she was teetering dangerously on the edge of all or nothing. She could not be happy with pieces of Cara. With stolen moments and secrets. And what scared her most of all was the fact that she had no idea where Cara stood. If Cara was offered an all or nothing ultimatum and Cara said nothing, could she live with that?

Kahlan closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d left the Rada’Han on the nightstand. She clenched her jaw determinedly and stepped back into her room.

* * *

 Cara was sweating as she stuffed a waxy round of cheese into the small bag she’d set aside for foodstuffs. It was early, but the previous night’s rain had beaten the heat out of the ground, and now it hung like a thick muggy curtain over the earth. The air felt sticky and viscous, and she had to put effort into drawing it through her nose and mouth. The horses, usually full of energy and ready to run after a night’s rest, stood in quiet misery as they chewed their oats.

She was preoccupied with packing and didn’t hear the whisper-quiet shuffle of boots over straw.

“You’re up early,” Kahlan said.

Cara did not turn around. “So are you.”

In all honesty, she hadn’t slept at all. She’d sat on the top step contemplating returning to the bar, then decided against it for reasons she still didn’t fully understand. She’d lain in bed until her too active brain had forced her out from under the blankets. She’d attempted to stitch the hole in the shoulder of her leathers, reveling in the distracting pain against her thumb every time she pushed the needle through sans thimble. The task hadn’t held her attention, however, and as soon as she heard movement from below she’d left her room, determined to have the horses packed and ready to go by the time anyone else woke up.

“The innkeeper gave me the blankets you asked for.”

“Fine.” Cara did her best to sound bored, but she was hyper-aware of every subtle movement of her own body, lest she give herself away.

She heard Kahlan shift behind her. “Can I help?’

Cara lifted one shoulder. “If you want.”

But Kahlan didn’t move. Cara had the unpleasant sensation of being watched, made all the more uncomfortable by her refusal to turn around and look at Kahlan.

She heard the dull thump of fabric against the wood floor followed by the quiet trickle of displaced straw.

“Cara,” Kahlan said quietly, “look at me.”

Cara took a half second to flatten her expression. She was stone; impenetrable, cold, unflinching, unfeeling. She pivoted, one knee pressed into the floor, the other bent up towards her chest.

Kahlan’s face was equally impassive. Her head was bent forward slightly—just enough that her hair shadowed her eyes. Her left hand was clenched in a fist. In the right dangled the Rada’Han. Cara looked at it pointedly, then moved her eyes purposefully to Kahlan’s face.

“You did say anytime,” Kahlan said. The embarrassed quaver was gone from her voice, as was the guilty shifting of feet. She met Cara’s gaze evenly, her eyes hard with challenge, and Cara inclined her head slightly.

“I did say that.”

Kahlan unlocked the Rada’Han. She lifted it to her neck and snapped it shut with a solid click. “Now’s good for me.”

Cara arched an eyebrow, feigning doubt. “In a barn?”

Kahlan did not reply. The invitation had been extended, and it was up to Cara to accept.

Cara rose slowly and crossed her arms over her chest. She jerked her chin in Kahlan’s direction. “It works, then?”

A flicker of confusion crossed Kahlan’s face.

“The Rada’Han,” Cara prompted.

Kahlan’s right hand made a motion towards her throat. “It works.”

A flash of hot jealousy clouded Cara’s vision for a moment. So they’d used it. She’d known they would, and yet the verification still angered her. She strode forward—she heard Kahlan’s sharp intake of breath as she approached, and then Cara brushed past her.

“Cara?”

Cara did not answer. She moved to the door, closed it, and then jammed a shovel under the handle. She turned. Kahlan was watching her, and suddenly what had happened dozens of times before felt unpredictable and delicate. She did not know how to start, now that there weren’t any rules. She ran a hand through her hair.

“You, uh…” Kahlan cleared her throat. “The clothes look good.”

The corner of Cara’s mouth twitched. So Kahlan felt the awkwardness, too. “I know. Why else would I wear them?”

Kahlan snorted. “To make me jealous.”

Cara shook her head in mock seriousness. “Please. I’m above little mind games like that.”

“You love mind games,” Kahlan accused.

“Says you.” Cara paused for a beat, then flashed Kahlan her best roguish smile. “Did it work?”

Kahlan laughed and spread her arms. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

She was. And Cara wasn’t exactly sure why. She understood the gist of it, yes. But she couldn’t offer anything Richard wasn’t also capable of. She remained silent and watched Kahlan’s throat bob as she swallowed nervously.

Kahlan looked away, her eyes darting everywhere from the floor to the rafters. “I want this,” she admitted finally.

 _It’s not enough_ , Cara thought—was on the verge of saying out loud—before common sense caught up with her. Since when was sex with Kahlan Amnell not enough? That was all she’d ever asked for and all Kahlan had allowed. She had no right to demand more. Kahlan wanted this and she wanted this and that had to be good enough.

Cara wasn’t sure how she ended up pressed against a wood support column, but she had enough time—before her shirt was ripped over her head—to smirk at their sudden role reversal. The Rada’Han had apparently had a considerable influence on Kahlan’s confidence, and Cara was perfectly fine with that. It gave her the unique opportunity to watch Kahlan at work—to watch the small crease in the middle of her brow deepen as she fumbled with Cara’s belt, to watch the pink flush creep across her cheeks.

Cara let her struggle for a few seconds before smugly offering to help.

“No, I do not want your help.” Kahlan pinched her bare stomach.

Cara grinned. “Ow.” She reached out and pulled lazily at the string lacing up the front of Kahlan’s dress. Her belt fell free, and Kahlan slid her hands down Cara’s waist, pushing her pants down.

Except Cara still had her boots on, and her pants weren’t going any further than mid thigh.

“Oh. Wait. “ Cara lifted one foot awkwardly, trying to kick her boot free and managing only to set herself teetering. “Wait—“

She started to fall. Kahlan realized it too late to do anything more than wrap her arms around Cara’s waist and shriek and tumble to the floor with her. They landed with a thump and Cara swore.

“Sorry,” Kahlan said, though she sounded anything but. She laughed as she levered herself up. Her hair had fallen in her face. The sun filtering through the stable’s windows caught the hints of auburn and gold in Kahlan’s brown hair. With one arm Kahlan swept her hair and over her right shoulder. She was smiling with genuine mirth, and Cara felt her own lips turning up in response.

Something shifted in Kahlan’s eyes. Her smile faded until she was all pointed intensity. She brought one hand up and traced Cara’s lips with her index finger, her cobalt blue eyes watching the path of her finger intently. Cara felt goose bumps erupt down her arms. Kahlan’s eyes flicked to Cara’s—half-lidded and dark and sensual—and Cara felt her stomach roll.

“I love these,” Kahlan whispered. She brushed Cara’s bottom lip with her thumb.  

Cara lifted her head. There were rules, she reminded herself. And no matter how badly she wanted to break them, she would not cross that line. Not without Kahlan—

Kahlan’s hand slid from Cara’s lips to the back of her head. She pulled her forward and bent her head and brought their lips together tentatively. Cara felt her breath catch in her throat. It was different from any kiss she’d ever experienced in her life—shy and quiet and searing. Until Kahlan’s lips touched hers, Cara hadn’t quite realized how badly she’d wanted to kiss her, and now she couldn’t get enough. She pressed forward. Kahlan’s hand fisted in her hair, encouraging Cara’s aggressiveness and returning it in kind. Kahlan’s lips parted, she exhaled and bit down on Cara’s bottom lip. Cara whimpered and she felt Kahlan’s lips curve into a smile.

Cara wrapped one arm around Kahlan and pushed herself to a sitting position. Kahlan wrapped her legs around Cara’s waist and then their mouths were together again, tongues dancing with a non-taste that was dangerously erotic. Kahlan was panting, her hands roving Cara’s naked shoulders. Cara reached between them, her lips never leaving Kahlan’s, and gathered the hem of Kahlan’s dress in her hands. Kahlan pulled away slightly—her lips were swollen and wet. She made eye contact and lifted her arms slowly into the air, and Cara lifted the dress. Her knuckles brushed Kahlan’s stomach and Kahlan inhaled sharply. She helped Cara to clear her head, and then the dress was off.

It was the first time Cara had seen her entirely naked. She felt shaky, like her brain was disconnected from her body. Kahlan’s bare breasts were a fraction of an inch from her own, and the closeness was a physical ache. She wanted to touch everything all at once, but Kahlan was avoiding eye contact; Cara could feel the nervousness radiating from her. Her shoulders were curved, hunched, like she was trying to hide herself. Kahlan blushed and ducked her chin. Cara felt the urge to offer reassurance, but she had no idea how to do that. She’d never _had_ to do it before—had no idea even where to start.

“Hey.”

Kahlan lifted her head, her eyes searching. Cara gently brushed a strand of hair behind Kahlan’s ear, and Kahlan tilted her head, pressing her cheek into Cara’s arm.

“I’m nervous,” Kahlan admitted. “I’m scared—“ she closed her eyes and shook her head.

“You don’t have to be scared.”

Kahlan laughed shakily. “I know.” She kissed Cara’s arm. “I know,” she repeated quietly, firmly. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to Cara’s gently. Cara wrapped her arms around Kahlan’s waist and flipped her in one smooth motion onto the folded wool blankets and the half packed saddlebags. Kahlan shrieked and Cara laughed. She kissed the curve of Kahlan’s ear, her ear lobe, the skin at the joint of her jaw and neck. Kahlan moaned. She pressed her chest up, she inhaled sharply, and then she pushed at Cara’s chest.

“Wait,” she panted. “Wait…”

Cara sat back. “What?” she was breathing hard as well—her face was hot, and her pulse was pounding in her temples. “What is it?”

“Something’s wet…” Kahlan shifted and reached behind her back.

“I know.” Cara kicked her boots off and wiggled her hips, working her pants the rest of the way off.  “Me.”

“No.”

“I am too.”

“No, I mean it’s this.” Kahlan pulled a small bag from behind her back and held it up to Cara. A small wet spot was slowly spreading across the front.

Cara took the bag from her. “That’s Zedd’s.”

Kahlan snorted and wiped at her back. “Great. I’m going to turn into a hedgehog or something.”

“Hedgehogs are cute.” Cara sniffed the bag. “It smells like mint.” She swiped a finger across the expanding wetness and after a moment of rolling it between her fingers, touched her fingers to her tongue.

Kahlan shrieked. “Cara!”

“What?”

“You don’t know what that was!”

“It smells like mint and it tastes like mint,” Cara said. “I think it was mint.”

“You can’t just eat stuff from Zedd’s bag!”

Cara lifted an eyebrow. Slowly and purposefully, she brought her fingers to her mouth.

“Cara,” Kahlan said warningly.

She opened her mouth.

“Cara Mason, I swear to the Creator, if that’s poison…”

Cara closed her mouth around her fingers. She waggled her head mockingly and rolled her eyes back into her head. Kahlan grabbed her arm and pulled Cara’s fingers from her mouth with a pop.

“If you die…”

“You’ll miss me.”

Kahlan shook her head, but she was smiling.

“Yes you will.” Cara crept forward on her hands and knees. “Yes you will…” She kissed Kahlan, pressing her back onto the saddlebags. Kahlan moaned. Her skin was blazing hot as Cara moved her mouth from Kahlan’s lips to her neck to her chest. Kahlan arched her back. Her skin was flushed—her dusky pink nipples were gathered and tight, and Cara was sating Kahlan’s desire just as much as her own when she fixed her mouth over Kahlan’s nipple.

Kahlan inhaled sharply. She twisted her head back and forth and her hand slapped against the wood floor. Her reaction spurred Cara on. She swirled her tongue and sucked hard and Kahlan cried out. “Creator,” she gasped. Her hands clenched in Cara’s hair. Cara hummed and moved down, peppering Kahlan’s skin with light kisses. The fine hairs on Kahlan’s stomach tickled her nose. She smelled sweet and musky and Cara’s mouth was watering with anticipation. Kahlan shifted—she was balanced on her elbows, watching, her eyes half lidded and dark, and when Cara fixed her mouth over her Kahlan dropped heavily onto her back. She let loose a strangled cry and Cara wrapped her arms around Kahlan’s hips, holding her in place. She couldn’t get close enough—she pressed forward, dragging her tongue through Kahlan’s wetness and holding her shaking legs steady.

“Cara,” Kahlan gasped. Cara circled her tongue slowly and Kahlan let out a high-pitched keening sound. Her hips lifted from the floor. She dragged her nails across Cara’s shoulder blades, and Cara moaned.

“Creator…Cara…”

Cara pushed. The desire to feel Kahlan come was bordering on need—she wanted to feel the pleasure wrack Kahlan’s body, needed to know that it was herself that had brought Kahlan to that point. She needed to know what it felt like to be completely wrapped up in Kahlan, to not have to pull away…

She was completely silent, but Cara could feel it: could feel the pleasure crashing through her, could feel her pulsing and jerking and spasming against her lips. It was familiar—she’d felt it with dozens of women before, and yet it was completely foreign because it was _Kahlan_. It was momentous and humbling and Cara had no way to convey how impossibly complex her feelings were: she was a Mord-Sith and Kahlan was a Confessor and Kahlan had chosen _her_.

Kahlan curled forward, her entire body rigid with release. She let loose one strangled cry before collapsing back against the saddlebags. Cara kissed her thighs tenderly. Kahlan’s chest was rising and falling heavily, one hand flung over her face. She gestured weakly at Cara.

“Come here,” she rasped.

Cara backtracked, kissing her way back up to Kahlan’s lips. Kahlan hummed and wrapped her arms around Cara’s neck and kissed her hungrily.

“Roll over,” Kahlan murmured.

Cara complied eagerly. Kahlan fit perfectly against her; she rocked her hips and Cara bit back a groan. She’d been so wrapped up in Kahlan that she’d turned a blind eye to her own needs, but she was ridiculously turned on. It would take less than nothing—a brush of Kahlan’s thigh against her—and she’d come undone. They were chest to chest and she could still taste Kahlan on her lips. She exhaled heavily and closed her eyes, trying to numb the sharp edge of pleasure by focusing on the black of her eyelids.

Kahlan’s breath was hot against her ear. “I want to touch you,” she whispered. Cara shuddered. She’d always—always—maintained a physical separation from Kahlan. Kahlan had seen her naked before, yes, but never in a sexual situation. There was always that separation of skin that dulled her senses, and now that it was gone everything was heightened. Her head was fuzzy but her body was buzzing, and when Kahlan slid her hand down Cara’s chest and slipped her fingers through Cara’s folds, it was all she could do to keep from crying out. She bit down on her bottom lip, hard, and Kahlan curled her fingers and Cara did cry out. Kahlan hummed against her neck, pleased with herself, and moved her hand.

“Bags,” Cara swore. She exhaled heavily. She felt like she was burning, like one touch in the exact right spot would make her explode. She canted her hips and Kahlan obliged, pressing up and deep and the wave that had been building crashed over her. She felt her muscles clench—she couldn’t control her hips. Her vision narrowed to a point and her ears were ringing and then Kahlan’s mouth was covering hers, swallowing her ragged gasps.

There were things they should be doing, Cara reminded herself as her heart rate slowed. Things that didn’t involve kissing a naked Kahlan Amnell in the middle of an inn’s stable.

But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of any.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, but as you can see...it's a long one. Hopefully it'll tide you all over until my end-of-the-semester obligations are gone, and as always, thank you for reading!


	23. Ember Tending

Zedd was reluctant to leave the comfort of the inn. The Pillars of Creation were only week’s ride north, giving them a little over a month before the Solstice. There was no reason, he argued, to get there ahead of time.

No one else shared Zedd’s opinion. Better to be a month early than an hour too late, Richard pointed out, and Zedd had acquiesced with a grumble. He’d taken full advantage of having a horse to ride, though, adding several leather bags full of food to his steed’s load.

And something Cara was fairly certain was a pillow.

She’d been staring at the giant off-white lump crammed in the small space between Zedd’s back and the edge of his saddle, trying to remember the pile of objects she’d packed in the stable—trying to remember if she’d ever rolled Kahlan over on top of whatever it was that morning, and she was coming up blank.

“Zedd.”

“Yes?”

“Did you steal a pillow?”

Zedd waited a beat too long for his denial to carry any weight.

“You did, didn’t you?” 

“I’m an old man—“

“And your bottom gets sore,” Cara interrupted.

Behind her, Richard laughed. Cara twisted in the saddle to look. Kahlan and Richard were riding almost side-by-side, and the customary bite of jealousy she felt at seeing them positioned intimately together was tempered by the scorching dark in Kahlan’s eyes when their eyes locked. The corners of Kahlan’s mouth turned up almost imperceptibly when Cara maintained eye contact. Kahlan lifted one eyebrow and then shook her head, but Cara saw her biting her lip to fight back a full-fledged smile.

“It’s not my bottom,” Zedd shouted indignantly. “I’m tired of waking up with a raspy throat. Having my head elevated should cut down on the snoring.”

“Then by all means. Carry on.”

From behind she heard Richard: “I don’t snore, do I?”

“Like a hog,” Zedd shouted.

“I wasn’t asking you, old man!”

Zedd’s thin shoulders shook with silent chortles, and Cara grinned. Zedd _would_ laugh at his own jokes.

Her horse plodded dutifully along, following Zedd’s. Riding required no real conscious effort, and Cara let the gentle sway of her horse lull her head into a state of warm blankness. She was tired. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept. She tried to remember—the three days with Nicci she’d been too paranoid to sleep more than a few hours at a time. Then she’d been hurt and she hadn’t slept at all after that. At least an entire day, then, since she’d last closed her eyes. She considered leaning forward and putting her head down on the horse’s neck and taking a nap. Which, more than sitting on the horse and staring at the woods with glassy eyes told her better than anything that she needed sleep. Cara Mason did not admit to weakness, and sleeping on a horse was maybe the pinnacle of weakness.

Kahlan’s horse nipped at her elbow. Cara turned. Kahlan grinned at her. She nudged her horse forward so that they were riding side-by-side. Cara craned her neck, looking for Richard to join them.

“He had to pick a tree,” Kahlan explained.

“Ah.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Long enough for Cara to become aware of how comfortable being quiet with Kahlan was. Which was…odd. Because she’d been avoiding quiet moments with Kahlan for forever. They had scared her, if she was honest with herself, because she was certain quiet moments with Kahlan would never stay quiet. Kahlan would ask her questions Cara didn’t want to answer. And then she’d get mad and say something sarcastic and Kahlan would give her that look. The hard eyed, thin lipped, clenched jaw glare that Cara hated but didn’t think she didn’t deserve.

Cara _hated_ that look.

“What are you thinking about?”

Cara shrugged. “Nothing.”

Kahlan reached across and touched Cara’s forehead gently, tracing the furrows in her brow. “Then what are these for?”

“Just tired.”

“Do you want me to get you Zedd’s pillow?” Kahlan teased.

Cara smiled and shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Kahlan leaned forward, examining Cara closely. “You do look really tired.”

“Whose fault is that?” Cara teased.

“Please. You were already awake.” But Kahlan’s cheeks were red when she said it, and when Cara turned to face her, Kahlan lifted a hand to cover her smile. “Stop it.”

“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re thinking things.”

“I’m not allowed to think now?”

Kahlan brought both hands to her face and shook her head, but Cara could see the creases of her eyes crinkling with a smile. Cara couldn’t help it—she smiled too.

“What’s so funny?” Richard’s mouth was already curved into a half smile, ready to be let in on the joke.

“Zedd’s pillow,” Cara said quickly.

“Maybe I should go steal it from him,” Richard proposed. He wiggled his eyebrows, reminding Cara of a teenage boy trying to impress a girl with a juvenile prank.

“Go for it,” Cara said.

Richard clicked his horse forward. “Watch this,” he mouthed. Cara waved him along with a flick of her fingers.

“Cara,” Kahlan scolded.

“What?”

“You know what.”

“I’m just encouraging a little grandfather-grandson bonding,” Cara said innocently.

Up ahead, Zedd was swatting Richard away, promising a spell that would make his hair stand on end if Richard didn’t leave him alone. Richard was laughing.

“See?” Cara said. She gestured. “Bonding.”

 “I think that’s a little generous.”

“Maybe. But he’s Zedd’s problem now.”

Kahlan did not answer, and her sudden silence made Cara uncomfortable. She glanced at Kahlan quickly out the corner of her eye. Kahlan was facing Richard and Zedd, watching them without actually seeing them. Some unreadable emotion darkened her profile.

“What?”

Kahlan twisted her lips. She looked to be on the verge of saying something, then suddenly changed her mind. She shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Not nothing,” Cara said. She’d started picking up on Kahlan’s silent cues—the way she tilted her head to the side when she was thinking, the way she dropped her shoulders when she was about to say something she wanted to be sure everyone heard loud and clear. Whatever was on her mind wasn’t ‘nothing’. “What?”

“You don’t want to talk about Richard, remember?” Kahlan sounded bitterly resigned. And she still wouldn’t look at Cara. And Cara knew she lacked the polite conversational skills to persuade Kahlan to talk without somehow insulting her, so she said nothing. Kahlan sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s fine.” She laughed hollowly. “This is what happens when we don’t have anybody trying to kill this. I start…” Kahlan let out a frustrated breath. She shook her head and dragged a hand through her hair. “It’s fine,” she said again. “It’s not your problem.”

“No, but…” Cara shrugged. “I’m here.”

Kahlan sighed again. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, then closed her eyes resignedly. “You...confuse me.”

Cara stiffened, startled. Whatever she’d expected, it wasn’t that. “I confuse you?” she repeated.

“Yes. Not in a bad way,” Kahlan said hurriedly. She reached across and touched Cara’s thigh quickly, reassuringly. “I’m sorry. ‘Confuse’ was the wrong word. I mean…you’re a puzzle.”

“A puzzle.” It was slightly better, but it still left Cara on guard.

“I just mean…every time I think I know how you’re going to act or what you’re going to say, you do something totally different.”

“Oh.” Cara shifted uncomfortably. “Well.”

“Like right now,” Kahlan continued. “I thought you’d tell me to…I don’t know. To get my crap together and let you know when I was done being wishy-washy. And instead, you tell me to unburden my problems on you.

“I didn’t say unburden.”

“Maybe not exactly. But close.” Kahlan leaned across her horse and kissed Cara’s cheek quickly. “Thank you.”

A tingle sparked in the pit of Cara’s stomach at the contact. Her eyes snapped to Richard, immediately paranoid that he had seen. He was, as always, oblivious and in deep conversation with Zedd. “Is that allowed now?” Cara said quietly.

“Is what allowed?”

She could tell by Kahlan’s tone of voice that she was amused. She knew exactly as to what Cara was referring, and it tickled her to force Cara to say it. Which, honestly, told Cara that it was indeed fair play—that Kahlan was going to say yes, kissing was allowed now. Cara didn’t need to say anything, but she was strangely compelled to hear Kahlan say it. To hear her say yes, kissing was allowed, because kissing felt intoxicatingly dangerous. Like lava burning her from top to bottom. _Was_ dangerous, because it crossed so many lines Cara had so carefully drawn into the sand, and because she was starting to enjoy crossing them.

“Kissing. Is that allowed now?”

“Would you like it to be allowed?”

“That’s childish, Kahlan. Answering a question with a question.”

Kahlan shrugged. “I only ask because it was your rule,” she said.

“Rules are made to be broken,” Cara quipped lazily.

Kahlan clucked. “Well, if you’re going to be cliché about it…”

“Would _you_ like it to be allowed?” Cara rejoined.

“I think…” Kahlan trailed off, surreptitiously checking to see if Zedd and Richard were close enough to overhear. “I think I already allowed it.”

“Are you saying you kissed me?”

“I _did_ kiss you.”

Cara twisted her lips, considering. “Mm…I think I kissed you.”

Kahlan snorted. “No. You did not. You stopped halfway.”

“I did not—“

Kahlan poked her in the ribs, hard enough to rest just on the border of pain and tickle. “You stopped halfway. Because you were scared.”

“I was not—“

“You were.”

“What would I be scared of?” Cara challenged. “You weren’t exactly going to slap me.”

“Would you like me to?” A slow, cheeky smile pulled at the right side of Kahlan’s mouth.

Cara made an indifferent noise in the back of her throat. “At some point, probably.”

Kahlan’s blue eyes were sparking with mischief—Cara could see the sharp retort on the tip of her tongue—

Zedd’s sharp whistle checked Kahlan’s response. They both jumped— _guilty_ , Cara scolded herself, _you look guilty_. She narrowed her eyes and scowled.

“What is it, Wizard?”

Zedd was twisted in his saddle, holding a cloth rucksack aloft. “If you’re going to throw my things around, Cara, I’d just as soon pack the horse myself!”

“What are you talking about?”

“My Strompal extract!” Zedd shook the bag at her. “You broke it! Lost the whole batch!”

Kahlan made a noise that sounded suspiciously like an aborted giggle. Cara shot her a glance. It was half Kahlan’s fault too.

“So buy more.”

“Cara, it was priceless!”

“Then how’d you get it?” Cara demanded.

“It was a gift!”

Cara threw one hand up in exasperation. “What am I supposed to do about it now, Zedd?”

Kahlan subtly pressed her fingers into the side of Cara’s calf. “What was it for, Zedd? Was it something we needed?”

Zedd looked suddenly uncomfortable with the question—as if he’d forgotten Kahlan and Richard were present as well as Cara. He had a hard time making and keeping eye contact with Kahlan, and when he noticed Richard was watching him expectantly as well, he cleared his throat and fixed his attention on the sack in his hands. “No, not really. Not anymore.”

“What did it do?” Richard asked.

“Nothing you all need to worry about,” Zedd said quickly. He returned the rucksack to his saddlebag, and when he straightened his back was just a fraction stiffer than it had been before.

“Oh sure,” Cara muttered under her breath. “Yell at me when it was Kahlan who broke it in the first place.”

Kahlan smacked Cara’s knee. She shushed Cara, but she was smiling as she did it, her cheeks sheepishly red.

“I took the blame,” Cara said teasingly. “Now you owe me.”

“I owe you,” Kahlan repeated. She stroked her chin melodramatically. “I can probably come up with some way to make it up to you.”

“I trust you,” Cara said. She’d meant it to be offhanded—a joke. Something that slipped past Kahlan’s consciousness because it was something people said all the time. Too late she remembered she wasn’t “people”. Cara Mason didn’t say things like that, and the look Kahlan gave her told her Kahlan had never expected to hear it. Something that felt an awful lot like panic—irrational panic, because what did she have to be afraid of—sank it’s claws into Cara’s chest. She looked away quickly.

A moment later she felt Kahlan’s lips press gently into her cheek. Her hand wrapped around Cara’s forearm. She squeezed once, gently.

“Thank you,” Kahlan whispered. She pulled away slowly, and Cara let out an unsteady breath. She nodded once, not quite trusting herself to say anything else. Her skin burned pleasantly with the ghost of Kahlan’s kiss.

Cara wasn’t quite sure, but it very much felt like another line had been crossed.


	24. The Rift

Through some unspoken agreement, they did not try to sneak away to use the Rada’Han in the woods when they stopped to make camp. Not the day they left Tanimura and not the day after and not the day after that. For one, Kahlan had a feeling that they’d be gone for too long to not make Zedd or Richard suspicious. For another, she wasn’t sure she could pull off walking through camp with the Rada’Han tucked under her dress without looking suspicious.

She wasn’t worried about guilt anymore—didn’t even feel guilty anymore, really. She’d come to terms with her own feelings, and in the end Cara hadn’t factored into it as much as she’d thought. Yes, Cara had been the catalyst and yes, Kahlan never would have upset the status quo without her influence, but what it came down to was a simple yes or no question: Did she want to marry Richard?

The answer was a definitive _no_. The realization had been liberating. Kahlan’s future was not tied to Richard. She was not obligated to marry him. She was allowed a choice. Before, the guilt she felt at potentially hurting him had cowed every rebellious thought she’d had about leaving him. Now the only guilt she felt was in leading him on.

She had to believe it was the best thing for both of them. They’d both suffer if they married. Even if they didn’t marry, the longer she led Richard on, the longer he wasn’t looking for someone else. And maybe her future wasn’t with Cara—Cara was allowed a choice too, after all. And maybe this…thing…whatever they were doing, maybe it was only supposed to show Kahlan the light. Maybe it wasn’t going to be anything more than an eye-opener, but given her options, Cara or Richard, she’d choose Cara’s prickly, unpredictable independence over Richard’s assertive morality any day. Which made no sense, when she looked at it rationally, because Richard was everything she was supposed to be looking for in a partner—thousands of women would kill to be in her position. But he just didn’t…fit.

Cara? Cara fit.

She just wasn’t sure if she should tell Cara that.

Which was stupid, because choices and all…Cara was allowed to tell her no, that she didn’t want to “fit”, and Kahlan would have to accept that. The fact that she was scared about having Cara push her away did two things: one, it made her hesitant to bring the topic up with Cara, and two, it made her hesitant to crush Richard. If she was scared of Cara telling her to jump off a cliff, then Richard would no doubt be devastated by Kahlan’s rejection.

Empathy was a bitch.

Kahlan watched as the last bit of wax on the candle marking her time on watch melted to the ash line. She stood slowly and stretched, then threw a small log on the fire before she woke Cara to take her place.

Cara was still exhausted. She refused to admit it, but it was all too obvious to Kahlan. Usually Cara woke easily, the slight increase of light when a log was added to the fire being all the stimulation she needed to be snapped back to consciousness. But for the past three days, she’d needed to be physically shaken before her eyelids even fluttered. Kahlan hated to wake her, and if she didn’t need sleep herself—and if Cara wouldn’t have been offended—she’d take Cara’s shift on watch just to give her a solid night’s sleep for once.

Cara was sleeping on her back, her lips slightly parted. Kahlan crouched next to her and traced the curve of Cara’s left eyebrow gently with her finger. Cara didn’t stir. Cara being exhausted wasn’t all bad. It gave her the unique opportunity to touch and look without Cara scowling.

“Cara,” Kahlan whispered. She moved a bit of Cara’s hair away from her ear. “Cara, wake up.”

Cara didn’t move, and Kahlan shook her gently.

“Hey. Wake up.”

Still nothing. Kahlan shook her again. Shaking too hard the night before had almost resulted in a broken nose, and Kahlan was not about to try her luck again. Cara had apologized profusely for almost hitting her, and she’d been adamant that Kahlan not wake her up like that again—“I feel like I’m getting attacked”—and the unconscious violence followed by Cara’s humiliated apology had startled Kahlan enough to teach her a lesson.

She leaned forward instead and pressed her lips gently to Cara’s. A part of her had been hoping that Cara would take effort to wake. She’d been planning this alternative wake-up call for the better part of the day, and even though Cara was asleep, a half-kiss was still the highlight of Kahlan’s day.

For a moment there was nothing. Then Cara’s eyes opened a fraction. She closed them, opened them, closed them again, but Kahlan knew she was awake when she tilted her head to return the kiss. It went on for longer than Kahlan had initially planned—long enough for her head to start buzzing and her limbs to mimic the slackness alcohol usually gave them. She pulled away and Cara made a noise of disappointment. Kahlan smiled down at her. It was a stupid, thick smile—she could feel it. She also couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Is it my turn?” Cara asked bemusedly. She had a strand of Kahlan’s hair trapped between her thumb and forefinger, and she was rolling it lazily.

Kahlan nodded. “How do you like the new wake-up call?”

She watched as Cara’s eyebrow lifted, as the corner of her mouth curled up—all things she’d seen a million times and but never so close, never so open and intimate…

It made Kahlan’s chest hurt.

“I prefer it to the old one.”

“I thought you might.”

Cara pointed her toes, stretching her legs. “Are you going to stay up with me?”

“Not a chance. I’m kicking you out so I can steal your nice warm bedroll.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Cara kicked her legs free of her blanket and rolled onto her knees. Kahlan wiggled under the blanket behind her and quickly wrapped the covers tight around her neck. She shivered, reveling in the heat Cara left behind.

“You’re like a furnace.”

“Are you complaining?” Cara was sitting, pulling on her black boots. She was still wearing the outfit Kahlan had picked out for her. She claimed that it was cooler than her leathers. Kahlan didn’t care what her reasons were. The new clothes were distractingly sexy, and she wasn’t about to complain about that.

“Definitely not.”

In lieu of a response, Cara pinched her lightly.

Kahlan squeaked and immediately brought the blanket up to cover her mouth. Cara shushed her, though she was very obviously trying not to laugh out loud, then glanced across the fire to be sure Richard and Zedd were still sound asleep.

“Don’t wake the boys,” she whispered, chastising Kahlan with mock-seriousness. “They need their beauty sleep.”

“I need my beauty sleep, too,” Kahlan whispered back. “And you’re keeping me up. Talking to me when you’re supposed to be on watch duty, pinching my bum…”

“You don’t need beauty sleep,” Cara said. “I do. So how about you get out of my bedroll…” she leaned forward and slipped one arm under Kahlan, trying to lever her over. “And take my watch?”

Kahlan dug her heels in, refusing to be rolled. “I don’t need beauty sleep?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Are you saying I’m beautiful enough already?”

“Beautiful enough…” Cara paused, her green eyes glinting in the firelight. “For a troll.”

Kahlan squirmed, trying to dislodge Cara’s hand. She was certainly not in a position of power, lying on her back, and especially since she was trying so hard not to smile. “And what kind of person are _you_ , then, that you kiss trolls?”

Cara snorted. “I don’t kiss _trolls_.”

To prove her point, Kahlan released her hold on the blanket and wrapped one arm around Cara’s neck, pulling her down and kissing her thoroughly. A moment later Cara brought her hand out from under Kahlan to cup her face, and a moment after that she was half lying on top of Kahlan, her upper body pressing against Kahlan’s with a delicious heaviness that made Kahlan regret ever agreeing to that stupid no kissing rule in the first place. _Imagine all the kisses you’ve missed_ , she thought, and when the next thought was _better start making up for them now_ , Kahlan forced herself to turn her head away. She let out several heavy breaths through her mouth, trying to scold her body into behaving, her eyes closed and her face turned away from the heat of the fire and away from Cara.

“Watch,” she forced out. “You have watch.”

Cara growled, then she sighed and pushed herself up. “Fine,” she said, though she managed to load the word with so much heated innuendo Kahlan almost dragged her down again. She was seriously considering taking up Cara’s request that she stay awake to keep her company.

Creator knew she wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon after a kiss like that anyway. 

* * *

 

The Pillars of Creation, even from afar, looked older than anything that could have been made by humans. Enormous columns arranged in a circled and made of solid light grey stone jutted from the earth. For some reason they reminded Kahlan of the tips of icebergs. Like what they were seeing was only a small part of something that stretched so much deeper.

Cara dropped her arm on top of Kahlan’s shoulder and leaned against her casually. Kahlan bit her cheek to keep from smiling. She knew any physical contact from Cara was probably mostly some sort of territorial thing. And she never did anything that didn’t look like playful, half-hearted attempts to draw Kahlan’s ire. And Kahlan appreciated every second of it. She hadn’t realized just how much casual physical contact she’d wanted from Cara until she’d started doing it, and now she couldn’t get enough.

“I thought they’d be bigger.”

“We _are_ on top of a cliff,” Zedd pointed out.

Cara made a noise that implied she still wasn’t impressed.

Zedd was obviously offended at her lack of reverence. “The Pillars have existed since the world was created,” he lectured. “You’d do well to offer them the respect they deserve.”

“They’re big rocks, Zedd.”

“Big rocks with the ability to save the world.”

“I thought that was our job,” Cara said.

Kahlan bit back a laugh. “She has a point, Zedd.”

Zedd’s bushy eyebrows knit together. He opened his mouth—no doubt to scold Kahlan was well—when Richard stepped out of the bushes behind him, spitting thistles and wiping a spider web from his hair.

“I found a path down the cliff,” he announced. He pulled at his tongue and spat again. “We won’t have to leave the horses behind.” He stepped forward, stopping next to Kahlan and wrapping one hand around her waist. It was done casually—she wasn’t even sure if he’d noticed Cara was draped on her shoulder—but regardless, Cara immediately moved away.

“Shall we keep moving, then?” Cara asked briskly. She walked away, heading back towards the horses without waiting for an answer.

“We can relax for a few minutes,” Richard called after her. Cara continued moving away, pretending to not have heard.

Richard leaned in and kissed Kahlan’s cheek. “It’s almost over,” he murmured.

Kahlan nodded absently.

“So. How do you feel about getting married the day after we save the world?”

She could tell by the tone of his voice that Richard was joking, but still. She felt herself stiffen involuntarily.

Richard laughed. “I’m just kidding.” He kissed her cheek again and squeezed her waist reassuringly. “I want to meet your mother first, at least.”

“I don’t know how that would go over. Marching the Seeker through Aydindril.”

“Why? Scared one of the other Confessor’s is going to steal me away?” Richard waggled his eyebrows teasingly and Kahlan forced a smile.

“Definitely not.”

Richard drew back, one hand pressed to his chest with exaggerated indignation. “What are you saying? That I’m not pretty?”

“If you’re pretty, I’m beautiful,” Zedd interjected.

“Looking good in a dress isn’t something I’d be proud of if I were you,” Richard said.

“I’ll have you know—“

“Are you all going to stand around all day?” Cara called acidly. “Because if you are, I’m sure the Keeper is more than grateful.”

Richard grinned at Kahlan and rolled his eyes. “We’re coming, Cara.”

Kahlan made to follow him back to the horses, but Zedd’s gentle hand on her arm pulled her up short. She turned to face him—he was watching as Richard walked away, waiting until he was out of hearing range. Zedd bent his head closer to Kahlan’s, his hand still on her arm.

“Infinite, undying, one of you is lying,” Zedd quoted quietly. He gave Kahlan a small, sympathetic smile. He squeezed her arm once before releasing her. There was no judgment in his watery blue eyes, only kindness, and Kahlan felt an odd mixture of dismay and relief crash over her. Zedd knew. It didn’t only exist inside her own head anymore, and still her first instinct was to deny it.

“Don’t,” Zedd entreated. “I may be an old man, but I do know reluctance when I see it.”

Kahlan took a shaky breath. She turned and wrapped her arms around her middle, looking out over the Pillars again. “You’re right.”

“Second guessing is only natural, Kahlan.” Zedd kept his voice low.

“What if it’s more than second guessing?” she whispered. “What if I know?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Zedd’s grey head turn slowly to face her.

“You’re sure?” he murmured after a moment. He sounded sad, and if Zedd sounded sad, then Creator knew how devastated Richard would be.

Kahlan nodded. She bit her lip. “It’s not nerves, Zedd. I don’t feel…” She shook her head. She loved Richard, she just didn’t love-love Richard, and she didn’t know how to vocalize that. Not to his grandfather. “I can’t marry him, Zedd.”

Zedd placed a hand on her shoulder. “Do you want my advice?”

Kahlan turned and cast him a wistful smile. “Please.”

“Don’t tell Richard.”

She must not have schooled her expression quickly enough, because Zedd was quick to add, “at least not yet.”

Kahlan brought one hand to her chest and pressed the tips of her fingers into the bare skin of her throat. “It’s eating me up inside, Zedd.”

Zedd sighed heavily and draped his arm around Kahlan’s shoulder. He pulled her close for a brief moment. “I know. Believe me Kahlan, I know.” He laughed hollowly. “I lived within shouting distance of the boy for years, and I never could tell him I was his grandfather. And do you know why I kept my silence?”

Kahlan shook her head.

“Because what I wanted wasn’t what the world needed. And it wasn’t what Richard needed.”

Kahlan dropped her head against Zedd. “I understand.” And she did. Richard needed to stay focused. Needed the certainty with which he made every decision without a broken heart corrupting his thoughts. After they sealed the rift and saved the world…then she could break his heart.

“You’ll help, him, won’t you?” she asked miserably.

“I can’t imagine anything I might say will make it any easier.”

“No. But selfishly, it will make me feel less guilty if I know he has you to lean on.”

“He’ll always have that.”

Kahlan exhaled shakily. “Thank you, Zedd.”

“Of course.” Zedd released her. “Now. What do you say we save the world?”

Kahlan gave him a small smile. “I say lead on, Wizard.”

* * *

 The path down the cliff took the better part of the day to traverse. For every five minutes of uninterrupted walking, they spent ten minutes trying to steer the horses around patches of loose stone and boulders. It was frustratingly slow. Zedd muttered expletives under his breath most of the way, and when Kahlan slipped and fell she chimed in with her own.

“You alright?” Richard asked.

“Fine.” Her elbow was bruised and her upper thigh was scraped and burning, but she was more irritated than hurt. “I’d really like to hit something, that’s all.”

“Maybe we can find you a nice baneling to punch,” Cara said casually.

“When have you ever met a nice baneling?” Richard asked.

“Bentley was pleasant enough.”

Kahlan laughed despite herself. Richard looked confused. “Who’s—“

A deep rumbling interrupted him. The horses jerked against their leads. Rocks skittered down the path behind them, knocking against their boots. Kahlan could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet—a constant gentle tremor that stopped just as soon as it started.

“Zedd?” Kahlan could hear the trepidation in Richard’s voice.

“I don’t know,” Zedd admitted.

“I don’t think we _want_ to know,” Cara said darkly, and Kahlan agreed.

Through some unspoken agreement they began moving faster. The further they descended, the more skittish the horses became and the more anxious Kahlan got. She could feel the hairs on her arms standing on end. The path began to level out as they reached the plain—the trees started to thin and Richard stopped dead. He swore and Kahlan rose up on her toes, craning to see past him.

A sick green light was shimmering along the plain. A very familiar sick green light.

“Oh no,” Kahlan whispered.

Richard broke into a jog. His horse jerked its head, its ears flat against its skull, and rather than fight it Richard dropped the lead. The horse took a few quick steps back before Kahlan grabbed it by the bridle.

“Tie them up,” Cara said briskly. She was already wrapping her lead around the trunk of a tree.

“It’s a rift,” Kahlan said. Cara didn’t answer. She took Richard’s horse from Kahlan and began tying it with her own. Disjointedly Kahlan appreciated her efficiency. Her own hands were shaking badly, a thousand worst-case scenarios flitting through her min’s eye, one after another.

“Quickly,” Zedd ushered them. “In case something’s come through. Quickly, quickly…”

Cara took the lead. She charged after Richard, her agiels already unsheathed and whirring and it struck Kahlan that Cara’s hands were bare. There was no thin layer of leather protection between her skin and the scorch of the agiels. She wondered if Cara even noticed, and then she wondered at her own distractedness.

 _Focus_ , she reminded herself sternly.

The physical rift in the ground became visible. It was jagged and wide—wider than could be jumped by any man or beast—and it stretched from East to West as far as Kahlan could see. Green, noiseless flames and a mystical green-yellow smoke bled from the opening as the edges of the Underworld converged with the land of the living. The Keeper was obviously not going to make their trek to the Pillars an easy one.

Richard was lying on his stomach, his head hanging over the lip of the gap. He turned and spotted Cara, several feet ahead of Kahlan and Zedd, and shouted for her to hurry. Cara sped up and Richard dropped his head over the edge again. A moment later Cara skidded to a stop beside Richard. She immediately tossed her agiels away and dropped onto her stomach. She began to slither forward and Richard pushed himself up and grabbed her calves, wrapping his arms around her legs and leaning back, slowing her descent.

“Richard!” Zedd shouted, and he sounded just as confused and scared as Kahlan felt. If he dropped Cara—

“There’s a kid!” Richard shouted as they approached. “Zedd, quick—grab hold of me!”

Cara was now completely hanging over the side. Richard had a secure grip on her ankles, but Kahlan still felt as if she were about to be sick. They should have a rope or something, not a human ladder made out of sweaty hands and leather boots—

“I have him!” Cara shouted. Her voice was muffled but unmistakable. With a heave, Richard began pulling her back over the ledge. Kahlan dropped to her knees and fisted her hands in every piece of Cara’s clothing she could grab.

“Come on,” Richard grunted. Cara’s lower half was securely over the lip of the rift. Kahlan grabbed hold of her belt.

“On three,” Richard panted. “One…two…”

They pulled. Cara’s upper body scraped over the side. Her arms were wrapped around a small boy. His face was buried in Cara’s neck, his legs still dangling in open space. Kahlan reached down and quickly grabbed him by the back of the pants, lifting him onto solid ground.

Cara sat up slowly, the young boy still clinging to her neck. She was pale and breathing hard and Kahlan knew she was shaken. Richard clapped her on the shoulder before flopping back tiredly. He was just as pale as Cara.

“It’s okay,” Cara said breathlessly. She closed her eyes and exhaled shakily. “It’s okay.”

Kahlan saw the boy’s small arms tighten around Cara’s neck. His entire body was trembling. She placed a comforting hand on his back.

“You’re safe,” Kahlan reassured him. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

The boy twisted his head ever so slightly—just enough for Kahlan to see one dark brown eye rimmed with red and a cheek scraped raw. She watched a tear slip from the corner of his eye. Kahlan stroked the back of his head in what she hoped was tender, motherly gesture.

“What’s your name?”

For a moment she thought the boy wouldn’t answer. Then he lifted his head from Cara’s shoulder just long enough to choke out:

“Declan.”


	25. The World Pours In

Cara tried to pry Declan from around her neck, pushing against his small hips gently. Declan did not move. He whimpered and tightened his hold. Cara could feel his small body trembling violently. He’d been frozen with fear when she’d reached for him, almost too scared to reach for her, and now that he was standing on solid ground the shock of being a finger hold away from death was catching up with him. She could appreciate Declan’s needing to be physically close to someone big enough to completely envelop and protect right now.

She just wasn’t comfortable that Declan had chosen her.

“Hey.” Cara pushed against him a bit more insistently. “Come on, kid. It’s okay. You can let go.”

She felt Declan shake his head, then felt the wet burn of a tear against her neck. Cara looked up at Kahlan desperately. Kahlan was stroking Declan’s hair, so wrapped up in trying to comfort him she didn’t notice Cara’s growing anxiety until Cara cleared her throat.

“Here.” Kahlan slipped her hands under Declan’s armpits and pulled him back gently. “Come here, Declan. Let’s get away from the rift in case it starts to open up again.”

Declan allowed himself to be pulled. He turned and Kahlan lifted him as she stood—he was bigger than she’d originally thought, Cara noted. Probably nine or ten. He had sandy brown hair full of wispy curls, and his thin legs were long enough to cross at the heels when he wrapped them around Kahlan’s waist.

Cara stood as well and extended a hand to help Richard to his feet, realizing only after he slapped his palm to hers that her hands were burnt from wielding her agiels without protection. It wasn’t any more painful than a sunburn, but it was still uncomfortable, and she bit back a wince as she hauled him to his feet.

“Good job,” Richard congratulated her.

Cara lifted her chin in acknowledgement. “Thanks for not dropping me.”

Richard shot her a lopsided smile. “No problem.”

“Zedd?” Kahlan had managed to talk Declan into lifting his head, exposing the full extent of his scraped and bleeding cheek. “Could you look at this?”

Zedd moved away. Richard stepped close to the rift and Cara joined him. The narrow ledge Declan had been balancing on was five feet down. He was lucky; it was far too small to hold an adult, and any further down he might have been out of reach. Richard gave a low whistle and shook his head.

“If we hadn’t been here…”

Cara nodded in agreement. “Did you see him fall?”

“I heard him shouting.”

“So we don’t know if he was here alone or not.”

Richard was quiet, but Cara heard his fist tighten around the hilt of the Sword of Truth.

“I’ll ask,” she said. She stepped away from the rift. The green smoke was starting to give her vertigo.

Kahlan was gingerly wiping dried blood and dirt from Declan’s face. His cheek was healed, and Zedd was examining the rest of Declan’s thin body for more injuries.

“Were you alone out here, Declan?”

Declan turned to face Cara. His bottom lip began trembling. He shook his head.

“Who was out here with you?”

“Dita,” Declan whispered.

Zedd froze and Cara’s stomach twisted. What were the chances Dita was an imaginary friend?

“Did Dita fall in?” Kahlan asked quietly.

Declan shook his head. “She ran away. I tried to chase her, but I fell.”

“So…is Dita a person?” Cara asked.

Again Declan shook his head. “My dog.”

Kahlan and Zedd sighed in unison with relief, and Cara couldn’t help but agree. She knew first hand how damaging it was to watch a friend or family member die at such a young age.

“Maybe we can help you find her,” Kahlan said, and Declan nodded. He straightened his legs and Kahlan lowered him to the ground. He wobbled shakily and leaned against Kahlan. He wiped at his eyes.

Kahlan knelt next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She pointed at Zedd.

“That’s Zedd. He’s a wizard.”

Declan’s brown eyes widened.

“That’s Cara. That’s Richard. And I’m Kahlan.”

Declan’s mouth twisted shyly. “You have a sword,” he said.

“I do.” Richard unsheathed the Sword of Truth. He held it out to Declan hilt first. “Would you like to hold it?”

Declan shook his head. He shifted uncomfortably, stepping on his own toes.

“You’re sure?” Richard wheedled. Declan buried his face in Kahlan’s dress.

“He’s sure,” Cara said brusquely.

Richard shrugged and slipped the sword home at his side again. “So just you and Dita, huh? How far are you from home?”

Declan lifted his shoulders slowly in a shrug.

“Can you point which way home is?” Richard pressed.

Declan pointed in a general southwest direction.

“If you can show us how to get home, we’ll take you back,” Richard promised, and as much as Cara disliked distractions, she had to admit that the alternative—that they make Declan find his way home alone—sounded more than a little cold hearted.

They had time, she reminded herself as they made their way back to the horses. They had a month to figure out how to get over or around the rift currently separating them from the Pillars of Creation. They’d done more with less during their travels. That nervous feeling in her gut was because they were so close to finishing it.

Nothing else. 

* * *

 

Declan proved to be the quiet, serious type, more interested in listening to the adventures of the Seeker than expounding on his own rather brief life story. When Richard asked him if he lived in a village, Declan shook his head.

“On a farm,” he said.

“What do you farm?”

“Sheep.”

Declan seemed to know raising sheep wasn’t interesting enough to be going on about, so he met each of Richard’s overly enthusiastic questions about life on the farm with one or two word answers. Still, Richard persisted, asking Declan if he had a favorite sheep, or if he had to help with chores every day, and asking in a way that Cara was sure Declan found patronizing. He was ten. He was too old to be lulled by Richard into a false sense of self-importance the way a younger child might be.

Still, she had to hand it to him. He put up with the questions better than Cara did.

“Why don’t you tell him how many banelings you’ve killed?” Cara interrupted after Richard asked Declan if the sheep “were scratchy”.

Richard looked over his shoulder at Cara, then up at Declan, who was sitting astride his horse. “I don’t think he wants to hear about that.”

“He’s a boy,” Cara said pointedly. “Of course he wants to hear about that.”

Richard hesitated again. “Do you?”

Declan nodded eagerly, and Richard launched into a slow and uncertain retelling of the first time they’d encountered a baneling. Cara interjected her own gruesome details whenever she felt Richard’s descriptions were lacking, much to Richard’s chagrin and Declan’s delight.

“Listen to you,” Kahlan murmured. “Thinking about becoming a traveling bard?”

“If you’re going to take the time to tell the story you should at least make sure you don’t leave out any of the good stuff.”

“He does seem to be enjoying himself,” Kahlan admitted, shading her eyes to gaze up at Declan.

Cara nodded.

“You’re good with him.”

Cara shrugged. They’d known Declan for a few hours. Not nearly enough time for Kahlan to come to that conclusion, in her opinion, but still. She couldn’t deny she enjoyed hearing it anyway.

“You are,” Kahlan insisted. “It's obvious; he hangs onto every word you say.”

“Then he has better taste than the rest of you.”

Kahlan pinched the tender underside of Cara’s bicep. “Are you saying I don’t have good taste?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying, yes.”

Kahlan grinned appreciatively. She shook her head, then Cara felt Kahlan’s fingers slipping gently across her wrist. Cara jumped. She jerked her hand away from Kahlan, her eyes darting towards Richard fearfully.

Kahlan caught her by the elbow. “Relax,” she muttered. “I’m not trying to hold your hand.” She sounded amused, but there was a hint of hurt in her voice that made Cara cross with herself. “I just want to see your palms.”

Of course Kahlan wasn’t trying to hold her hand in public. Cara silently cursed herself as Kahlan lifted her hand, palm up, and examined the angry bright red burn discoloring her skin.

“Does it hurt?”

Cara lifted one shoulder. It hurt, but it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to. In order to inflict pain effectively, Mord-Sith needed to be familiar with the pain their agiels delivered. She’d had much more serious burns in much more sensitive places. “It’s fine.”

“Zedd can fix it for you.”

“It’ll fade in a day.”

Kahlan dropped Cara’s hand silently.

“It really doesn’t hurt,” Cara said. She didn’t know why she felt the urge to explain herself, only that Kahlan’s silence felt dangerous.

“Did I say anything?” Kahlan asked sharply.

Cara hesitated. This was what she was bad at: the nuances of conversation. Whatever she was supposed to say to make it better was a mystery to her. She felt stupid and awkward and that made her angry—not with Kahlan, with herself, but still. Talking meant she ran the risk of making Kahlan more upset without any idea how to make it right. She said nothing, and that seemed to make Kahlan angry as well. She huffed and fell back to walk with Zedd, and Cara was uncomfortably aware of Kahlan’s angry gaze burning into the back of her neck.

* * *

 

Declan’s family’s farm was a modest thing. There was a small barn with a small paddock full of fluffy sheep and a small house with several orange and white chickens roaming the small yard. It all felt uncomfortably familiar, and when a woman with hair the color of Declan’s tied up in a kerchief appeared in the doorway of the house, wiping her hands on an apron and smiling broadly, Cara felt a vise squeezing her chest. His mother. That was Declan's mother. She stopped dead, trying to breathe, but the pressure was in her head now, too. Declan slipped off of the horse and ran to his mother. She stepped down--she was looking at Declan like he was her whole world, like nothing else existed--she fell to one knee and wrapped him up in her embrace. A black and white dog squeezed its way out of the door behind Declan’s mother, barking excitedly and nosing Declan’s face. A toddler, bare foot and shirtless, peered around the doorjamb and Cara turned away. She was too hot, breathing too hard.

“Cara?” Kahlan reached for her. Cara shoved her horse’s reins into Kahlan’s hands and pushed herself away.

“I can’t,” she forced out.  She half stumbled, half walked away, throwing herself into a wide loop away from Kahlan and Zedd.

“Where are you going?”

She didn’t know. Away. Away to breathe. She waved Kahlan’s concern away. “I’ll be right back,” she mumbled.

“Cara?”

_Keep going. Keep going._

“Cara!”

She heard Zedd’s throaty voice murmuring but she couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t care what he said, as long as he didn’t stop her.

When she was out of sight of the farm, Cara collapsed against a tree. She pressed one hand against her stomach, trying to physically press her diaphragm into following the regular cadence of her breath again. Walking up to Declan’s home, seeing his mother waiting for him at the door—it was like being punched in the stomach. It had been her greatest childhood dream come to life, seeing his mother welcome him home.

It was the dream she’d had to kill in order to survive.

Cara slowly lowered herself to the ground. She closed her eyes, trying to erase the picture of Declan’s reunion with his mother from her mind’s eye. Trying to forget the look of pure joy on his mother’s face.

Trying to forget what her own mother’s face looked like.

It had hit her like a bolt of lightening, the memory of her mother. It was something Cara hadn’t thought of in years, and the fact that she was so unhinged now meant she’d done well to gloss over the memory of her family years before. She felt like a scared child again.

Cara fumbled with one of her agiels. She needed the pain. She needed to chase the memory away. She needed to be in control.

She rolled up her left sleeve quickly, her movements jerky, and pressed the tip of her agiel into the skin just below the apex of her elbow. The agiel screamed and Cara clenched her jaw against the pain. The pain was good. It was familiar. It felt like home; it _was_ home. She was a Mord-SIth again, not a scared little girl praying to the Creator for someone to save her and take her back to her family.

She let the agiel roll from her hand when she was too exhausted to press it with any authority into her arm. She felt exhausted, drained physically and emotionally. Her cheeks were tight with the tracks of dried tears. She examined the circular burn on her arm disjointedly. It was blistering around the edges. Jagged stretches of angry red extended around the curl of her bicep and down her forearm. Cara clenched her fist. There was no strength behind it.

Cara sighed and rolled her sleeve down gingerly, once again glad she’d decided to continue wearing the loose cream-colored shirt Kahlan had chosen for her rather than her leathers. Wearing the cotton shirt would give the wound a chance to breathe.

Her head was clear again. There was a definite division between Declan and herself. She pushed herself to her feet. She was in control.

Kahlan met her on the front porch. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her mouth was turned down in a familiar, angry frown.

Cara scuffed to a stop, waiting for Kahlan to shout at her, scold her, something. When Kahlan said nothing, Cara gestured half-heartedly towards the house.

“Are Richard and Zedd inside?”

Kahlan lifted her chin in response.

Cara dropped her arm against her side again. “The dog,” she said after a short silence, “Was that Dita?”

Again, Kahlan nodded.

Cara had nothing else to say. She was too tired to think of any more pleasantries.

“What’s wrong with you?” Kahlan demanded.

Cara took a half step back. A lethargic flash of anger swam through her. “Don’t,” she said warningly. She’d spent the last few hours convincing herself that she was fine, that there was nothing wrong with who she was or that she felt every emotion but anger through a haze. She didn’t need Kahlan’s self-righteousness right now.

“I’m serious, Cara. What in the name of the Creator is wrong with you?”

She didn’t sound serious, she sounded angry. Well, fine, Kahlan could be angry. Cara didn’t owe her anything. She turned on her heel and headed towards the barn, hoping she was right and the horses were tied up there.

“Quit—“ she heard Kahlan clatter down the porch steps behind her. “Quit walking away from me, Cara!”

Cara walked faster. She made it to the barn just ahead of Kahlan—mostly because, she was sure, Kahlan would rather shout at her in the privacy of the barn than in the middle of a stranger’s yard, but still. Small victories.

Kahlan grabbed her by the arm. Her thumb pressed into Cara’s agiel burn and Cara hissed and jerked away roughly.

“What?” Kahlan demanded. “Creator, Cara, talk to me for once!”

“I don’t want to!” Cara snapped. “Did you ever think of that? That I might not want to talk? That it’s not just some act? I truly, honestly, do _not_ want to talk to you.”

“Too bad. You owe me an explanation.”

Cara laughed. She sounded vicious and broken—she was amazed the sound was coming from her own mouth. “I don’t owe you anything, Confessor.”

Kahlan’s eyes flickered between uncertainty and anger. She suddenly seemed to take up much less space. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

Cara flashed her palms in a _so what_ gesture.

“Cara.” Kahlan took a step forward and despite herself, Cara flinched. Kahlan drew back immediately. “Please. Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Cara said sarcastically. “I’m _allllll_ better now.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“I don’t _need_ your help.”

“Fine!” Kahlan shouted. She pressed her hands to her face and took a shaky breath. “Fine,” she repeated softly. The anger was gone from her voice. “If you won’t let me help, then can you at least stop making me feel like it’s my fault?”

Cara balked. For a moment she didn’t know what to say. “I don’t make you—“

“Yes, you do,” Kahlan interrupted. She sounded resigned to the fact. “I try to help, and you just…” she gestured helplessly. “You throw it in my face. And when you run away, it feels like you’re running away from me. And that sucks, Cara.” She let out a hollow laugh that ended in a dry sob. “That really sucks.”

Cara felt stupid, opening and closing her mouth with no words coming out. It was never her intention to hurt Kahlan. She’d only wanted to maintain her own defenses. To keep herself from being hurt.

“I never…”

Kahlan shook her head and lifted her chin. She was fighting back tears.

Cara sighed. She reached for her left sleeve and rolled it up carefully. She felt sick. “Here,” she whispered. She held her arm out, and Kahlan let out a quiet gasp. She took Cara’s hand carefully in both of hers and bent over her arm, examining the burn.

“Cara, who did this?”

Cara took a deep breath. “I did.”

She felt Kahlan’s hold on her hand go slack. She lifted her head. Her blue eyes were wide, and Cara was afraid she’d see pity there—maybe even fear—but instead she saw only concern. Kahlan wanted to know why, and why was maybe the hardest thing of all to explain.

“I don’t know…” Cara faltered. She forced herself to go on. “I don’t know how to handle some things.”

Kahlan’s thumbs stroked the bones of her wrist. “Some things like what?”

“Like…Declan.” Cara shook her head. That wasn’t right. “No. Like his…like his mom.” She felt her face getting hot. She couldn’t even talk about it. She ran a hand through her hair, frustrated with herself.

“What about his mom?”

“She loves him,” Cara said simply. “And I want— _wanted_ …” She shook her head. She didn’t know what she was trying to say anymore.

“Your parents loved you, Cara.”

“I know they did,” Cara said. “It’s just…easier to pretend they didn’t. Until I get reminded of it.” She laughed hollowly. “Like today.”

Kahlan leaned forward. She kissed Cara’s wrist. It was the single most caring gesture Cara had ever had bestowed upon her, and she had to fight hard not to cry. Things were breaking, falling down around her, and the only tether she had—the only real thing she could cling to—was Kahlan’s feather light hold on her arm.

“Sometimes I have to remind myself I’m broken,” Cara whispered.

“You’re not,” Kahlan whispered, and Cara believed her. Kahlan kissed her wrist again before lifting her head. She was crying, and when Cara lifted her hand to brush away Kahlan’s tears, Kahlan gave her a small smile. “Can I hug you?” she asked.

Cara hesitated. She’d seen Kahlan naked, she’d had sex with Kahlan—kissed her, even—and yet the idea of hugging somehow felt even more intimate than anything they’d done.

Slowly, Cara nodded.

Kahlan stepped forward. She slipped her arms around Cara’s midsection and pulled her close. Awkwardly, Cara wrapped her own arms around Kahlan, just under her armpits. She was stiff with discomfort. She thought it would be a brief hug—she was waiting for Kahlan to let her go, and when she didn’t, Cara felt herself slowly begin to relax. She closed her eyes and felt Kahlan breathe against her, felt her heart beating…

She felt herself start to relax into Kahlan’s embrace.

“See?” Kahlan murmured. “If you were broken, you wouldn’t know how to do this.”

For the first time in her life, Cara allowed the possibility that Kahlan might have a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was totally my favorite chapter to write so far. :)


	26. A State of Heightened Confusion

Declan’s mother had a map of the area that she was more than willing to let them look over. And while it had been drawn with grazing sheep in mind, it still gave them a general idea of how best to approach the new obstacle that was the rift. There was no talk of taking their time anymore. If the Keeper was going to be actively attempting to keep them from the Pillars, then they could no longer rely on the luxury of a head start.

“He had no problem ripping into the plains,” Richard said. He traced a finger idly around the rudimentary sketch of the Pillars. “I think our best bet is to assume there won’t be any opportunities to cross unless we head up into the cliffs.”

“You won’t be taking your horses, then,” Declan’s mother—Rita—set a plate of biscuits on the table for them. “There’s not a single foot path all the way up those cliffs. You’ll be climbing over boulders the whole way.”

“That’s alright. The horses were a new addition anyway,” Richard said.

Zedd made a disappointed noise and plucked up a biscuit. Declan’s small hand slid towards the plate behind Zedd’s.

“Why do you want to go to those old pillar things anyway?” he asked.

“We have something that has to go up there,” Richard said distractedly.

“Why?”

“To close that crack you fell in. And to make sure no more open up.”

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

“The thing.”

“Declan,” Rita scolded gently, “Why don’t you go play outside with your brother and let them work.”

Declan smiled up at his mother. “I just want to hear him say it.”

Richard lifted his head slowly. Next to her, Kahlan felt Cara stiffen. The small dining room was suddenly thick with tension.

“Say what?” Richard asked quietly. His hands were clenched into fists, and his normally cheerful face was tight with suspicion.

Declan turned to face him, still smiling innocently. There were dark purplish circles surrounding his eyes—eyes that were now an inky black. “What have you got in your pocket, Richard?”

Richard straightened. He took a step back. “Who are you?”

“You don’t sound scared,” Declan said idly. He poked his index finger across the table, picking up the fallen crumbs from his biscuit, then flicked them carelessly to the floor. “You should sound scared, Seeker.”

Kahlan felt Cara’s hand on her arm, pulling her back, away from Declan. In a distant part of her brain Kahlan knew that it was because Declan was, somehow, dangerous, but the rest of her mind was still trying to catch up. Trying to reconcile the viciousness that was suddenly oozing out of the little body that had, a moment ago, seemed so innocent and normal.

_Get away_ , though, was as good a plan as any.

“Zedd?” Kahlan said.

Zedd was already mumbling something, his hands twisting in an intricate pattern.

“No, no,” Declan said. “We can’t have that.”

He snapped his fingers, and two things happened almost simultaneously.

The first was Declan’s mother stepping forward and clipping a Rada’Han around Zedd’s neck. There was a sudden absence of energy that left Kahlan unbalanced, like she’d lost the centering pressure of air against her inner ear. She swayed and Cara's grip on her arm tightened fractionally.

The second was Darken Rahl stepping through the front door.

Kahlan felt her stomach drop, felt the air rush out of her lungs. No one moved for a moment, and Kahlan had the vague thought that this was what people meant when they referenced “the element of surprise”. Then Darken Rahl raised his hand and things started happening all at once.

Cara shoved past Kahlan, vaulting onto the table and throwing herself between Zedd and what looked like lightning coming from Rahl’s palms. The small room exploded with brilliant white light. Zedd leapt from his chair. “Off!” he bellowed, scrabbling at the collar, “Get it off!”

Kahlan and Richard both reached for him, but Declan was faster. He scrambled up onto the table behind Cara and slapped his small hand to Richard’s chest. Richard screamed in agony and doubled over. A fine, bright green smoke began seeping from his chest, like Declan’s hand was about to make him combust. He made a choking sound and Kahlan took a half step towards him, torn between helping Richard and helping Zedd.

“Kahlan!” Zedd shouted. His eyes were fixed on Richard and wild with panic. Kahlan seized Zedd by the shoulder, forcing him down so that she could reach his neck. She traced the Rada’Han with shaking fingers, searching for the clasp.

She heard the table break out from under Cara, then watched as Cara pitched into a forward roll that merged seamlessly with a full body tackle. She smashed into Rahl, driving him to the floor. She rose up—she had an agiel in one hand and Rahl’s hair in the other, and began desperately smashing him in the face over and over again. She was buying them time, keeping Rahl away from them. If she could get the colllar off--

An arm slipped around Kahlan’s neck, dragging her away from Zedd. She reached up, her Confessor’s magic already making her vision narrow to a pinpoint, and felt lips and a nose. She pushed—felt the moment when resistance to her will disintegrated, felt the arm around her neck go slack, felt the floor tremble when Rita fell to her knees a moment later.

Declan was screaming. “Give it to me, Richard! Give me the Stone!”

Kahlan scrabbled at the Rada’Han’s clasp. She could feel the ridge under her nail, could almost pull it—

“Richard, no!” Zedd shouted.

Richard was reaching into his pocket slowly, his eyes blank, trancelike. Kahlan lifted the clasp and wrenched the Rada’Han from Zedd's neck. His hand was already up, spewing a thick column of flame at Declan. It curved around his body, and he lifted his black eyes to Zedd and smirked.

Something splintered and Cara cried out; a horrible sound that was abruptly cut short by a quiet thump. She was lying facedown on the floor and her agiel was shattered, glittering on the floor around her like bits of crystallized blood. And Darken Rahl was rising to his feet. Blood poured from his nose and from a gash above his right eyebrow. He began speaking, his words foreign and thick and guttural with blood. Zedd turned to face him, speaking quickly, desperately, and Richard lifted the Stone of Tears from his pocket.

Zedd cried out, and Kahlan felt the despair in his voice wash over her.

This was it. This was the end.

She saw everything in agonizing clarity—saw Declan reaching for the Stone, saw the spell to destroy them all wash through Rahl’s body, saw Zedd’s hands moving desperately to counter it, but she knew. Too late. It was all too late.

She reached out and touched Zedd’s back, wanting to be close, wanting to not be alone when the world ended.

Rahl’s spell exploded outwards. She felt the shockwave punch her in the gut, felt her ears pop and then ring. The corners of the room faded to an infinity of white. Cara was gone, swallowed up into nothing. The white was bleeding towards her. Kahlan closed her eyes. _Please_ , she prayed, _don't let it hurt. Don't let it-_

* * *

“Are you getting up today?”

Something soft smashed into Cara’s face, jarring her awake. She flung the pillow away and slammed her eyes shut again. “Don’t, Dahlia,” she growled.

“Seriously?" The pillow was back, battering her face rhythmically. "You’re seriously going to do this to me? You agreed: first thing today we’d go Shadrin hunting.”

Cara said nothing. Dahlia’s hard fingers dug into her side.

“You said, Cara.”

“I say a lot of things I don’t mean,” Cara muttered.

“If you were going to sleep in, then you could have at least been considerate enough to let me ask someone else to go with me last night. Instead of being all...prickly.”

Cara rolled over onto her stomach and pressed her face into the mattress. “Don’t pout.”

The bed bounced as Dahlia flopped down next to her. “I’m bored,” she grumbled. “I can’t sit here all day, doing nothing.”

“Train somebody.”

Dahlia snorted. “And put up with that territorial mistress crap? I think not.”

Cara shrugged. It wasn’t her fault Dahlia wasn’t ambitious.

“Well, fine." Dahlia sighed disgustedly. "What are _you_ going to do all day, then?”

“Sleep.”

“You did that yesterday.”

“And who are you?” Cara turned her head and scowled up at Dahlia. “My mistress?”

Someone knocked on Cara’s chamber door.

“Cara.” Denna's unmistakably acidic voice was piercing, scarcely muffled by the heavy oak door. “You’re needed.”

“Speak of the devil,” Dahlia muttered. She rolled out of the way as Cara tottered off the bed, muttering curses. She stumbled across the room and flung the door open, draping herself against the door frame lazily.

“Denna. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Denna scowled disapprovingly as she took in Cara’s rumpled state. Her own leathers were, as always, pristinely well oiled, the silver buckles polished to a shine. “Getting a late start, aren’t we?”

Cara smiled sweetly. “You know, Denna, I’ve always wanted to ask: how _do_ you get your braid so tight?”

“If I did it myself, I’d tell you,” Denna snipped. “Get dressed. I have a job for you to do.” She turned, her leathers creaking stiffly, and Cara closed the door a bit harder than was necessary.

“I swear,” Dahlia muttered. She was sprawled across Cara’s bed, her arms crossed beneath her head. “She acts like her leathers are white already.”

Cara grunted in agreement. She pulled off her nightshirt and flung it at Dahlia. “I thought you were going hunting.”

“Please. You doing a job for Denna? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

* * *

 The job, as it turned out, was an interrogation.

“You and I have very different ideas of what a _job_ is,” Cara drawled lazily. She trailed her gloved fingers along the wall of the dungeon, purposefully taking her time since Denna seemed to be in such a hurry. It was childish, but then, most of the power plays that took place between the Mord-Sith were childish. That didn’t make them any less enjoyable.

“We’ll see,” Denna muttered cryptically. She stopped in front of a metal door and gestured for Cara to come closer. She flipped up the small hinged window just above Cara’s eye level, and Cara rose up on her toes to see through. There was a man curled up in the corner of the cell, his robes crusted with dirt and his grey hair hanging in his face like greasy bits of rope. A relatively normal looking prisoner by anyone’s standards.

“Look around,” Denna instructed.

Cara rolled her eyes. She looked away from the man, examining the cell in full, and froze. Her name—her full name—was scrawled across every wall.

“What in Rahl’s name…” Cara hissed. She felt cornered, like Denna had set her up for something. A spike of anger made her see red. “What is this? Who is he?”

“I was thinking you might know,” Denna said. She let the window clack shut and leaned casually against the door, scrutinizing Cara openly.

“I don’t.”

“You’re sure?”

Cara scowled. She didn’t answer to Denna, no matter how much Denna liked to pretend she was the next best thing to Rahl in the People’s Palace.

Denna quirked her eyebrows at Cara’s silence. “For what it’s worth, I believe you.

_It’s worth very little_ , Cara thought, but she bit her tongue. Whether she knew the man or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that it looked like she did, and even the stupidest Mord-Sith could spin the situation into something very bad for her.

And Denna was definitely not stupid.

“So who is he?” she said instead.

“A wizard,” Denna said.

Cara frowned. She hadn’t heard of a wizard being captured. And considering it had never been accomplished before, she had to imagine it would have been something she would have been told. She wasn’t a first year initiate, for Creator’s sake. She would have heard about a wizard.

“How did you capture him?”

Denna ignored the question. “He’s been here for about a week,” she said. “Going on and on about _Cara Mason_ , _Cara Mason_.” She leaned against the door. “Believe me, I tried to break him without involving you. But he’s quite adamant. He’ll only talk to _Cara Mason_.”

“And since when do we let prisoners make demands?”

Denna’s mouth curled in a humorless smile. “Since I got curious.” She gestured towards the cell. “So. What do you say? Shall we give him Cara Mason?”

Cara shrugged, doing her best to look bored and not at all curious. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Denna slipped the key into the lock. “Mind if I listen in?”

“Do what you want.”

Denna swung the door open and Cara stepped in, scuffing her boots against the stone. The wizard flinched and Denna closed the door.

Cara watched him for a moment. He was tense, shaking with anticipation, but he wasn’t scared. She could read body language like a book, and he wasn’t scared. She unsheathed one agiel and tapped it against the metal door rhythmically.

“I heard you had something to say to me, wizard.”

The man’s head shot up. The skin of his wrinkled face was loose—whether it was from age or malnutrition, Cara wasn’t sure, but his blue eyes held none of the fatigue she’d come to associate with prisoners regularly subjected to the agiel. He looked…eager to see her.

“Cara?” he whispered. He scrambled to his feet. Cara pointed her agiel at him warningly.

“Stay where you are,” she snapped.

“Of course. Yes.” The man held his hands up, doing his best to look nonthreatening, but he was trembling with what looked suspiciously like excitement. Cara was half convinced that this was some elaborate hoax put on by Denna, except his leg was chained to the wall and a Rada’Han was padlocked to the man’s long neck, and Rada’Hans weren’t things someone could just throw around.

“I just want to talk,” the man said insistently.

Cara studied him silently for a moment, letting him squirm and reestablishing her authority. “Who are you?”

“My name is Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander. I’m a wizard of the First Order—”

“Never heard of you,” Cara said.

“No,” he agreed. “No, you wouldn’t have. I’m not from here.”

Cara snorted. He was crazy. Crazy explained a lot.

“And neither are you,” the wizard continued quickly. He seemed to know Cara would have no patience for He spoke rapidly, giving her no space to interrupt. “Not from this world—well, from this world, yes. The world is right but the time is wrong, from what I can gather—”

“Stop talking,” Cara snapped. He made no sense, and that was incredibly annoying.

“You’re from Stowecroft,” the wizard continued. “You were taken by the Mord-Sith when you were nine. You left the Mord-Sith—”

Cara spread her arms. “Obviously I didn’t.”

“—to travel with myself, the Seeker, and a Confessor. Richard Cypher and Kahlan Amnell,” he said, raising his voice to speak over her.

“And why would I do that?” Cara asked sarcastically. She wasn’t sure what a Seeker was, but she’d never be caught dead with a Confessor. She laughed condescendingly. “I give you credit, wizard. You got me down here.” He was trying to stir things up, and Cara wasn’t having it. She turned to leave.

“What did you do yesterday?” the wizard asked desperately.

“None of your business.”

“Think!” he pleaded. “Think, Cara!” She heard the chain around his ankle rattle as he scrambled after her. “You can’t remember because there was no yesterday here! Your brain will try to fill something in for you, but it’s not real! The other world, that’s real! This is a spell gone wrong—a bunch of spells smashed together—I was trying to buy us time, and now we have it, but we don’t have much, and I need you—”

“To take the collar off?” Cara interrupted. She tsk-ed. “Going to have to do better than that, wizard.”

“It’s not real, Cara,” he insisted, his voice quavering with desperation. “None of this is real. We have to go back!”

Cara ignored him. She opened the cell door and stepped out, ignoring Denna’s questioning glance. “That was fun,” she announced drolly. “Got anymore crazies you’d like me to talk to?”

Denna shook her head. “Just the one.” She locked the cell door.

Cara could hear the wizard still shouting at her to _think_ as they climbed the dungeon stairs.

* * *

 “So?” Dahlia twisted the stem off of her apple and flicked it at Cara. “How was your date with the palace mistress?”

Cara ignored her. She was sitting shirtless on her bed; preoccupied with what looked like a healing agiel burn on her left forearm. She held her arm out to Dahlia.

“When did I get this?”

“I’m trying to eat, Cara.” Dahlia slapped her away. “How am I supposed to know? It’s your body.”

“I’m aware it’s my body, thank you.”

“It doesn’t look very old.” Dahlia took a noisy bite of her apple.

“Again.” Cara rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

Dahlia shrugged. She fell back on her elbows and crossed her legs at the ankles. “So what was Denna’s big job for you to do today, anyway?”

“Denna had me…” Cara paused. Interrogate wasn’t exactly the right word for what she’d done in the dungeons. “Question a prisoner.”

“Question who? And about what?”

Cara studied her for a moment. Dahlia liked to pretend she existed in a plane outside the petty politics of the Mord-Sith. To anyone that didn’t know her, she played the gullible dupe to perfection. But Cara knew Dahlia. They’d learned to survive together; she through cold-hearted brutality, Dahlia through tactical idiocy. Dahlia always knew more than what she let on. She had carefully manipulated herself into the reputation of a solid middle-of-the-pack soldier, and only Cara was somewhat aware of the true influence Dahlia held within the People’s Palace. Certainly not as much as Denna, and Cara was too proud to admit Dahlia might even surpass herself when it came to the leverage she had over their fellow Mord-Sith, but Dahlia’s clout was not inconsiderable. She could hardly believe, then, that Dahlia didn’t have some idea already about what Denna’s questioning had entailed.

“Why don’t you tell me?”

A slow, knowing smile dimpled Dahlia’s cheeks. She chewed carefully, her eyes fixed on Cara, obviously delighted at Cara giving her credit for figuring things out on her own. She swallowed. “Denna’s got a wizard in the dungeon who knows you.”

“Bang on.” Cara flopped onto her back, irritated just at hearing the words leave Dahlia’s mouth. “Now tell me how he knows me.”

“Dunno.”

Cara snorted derisively. “I’m sure you have some idea.”

Dahlia shrugged. She rolled the apple in her hand, examining the edges of her bite.

Cara watched and waited.

“I suppose,” Dahlia began slowly, “That it’s possible Denna’s found an old fellow to mess with you.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Why do people do anything?” Dahlia returned sagely, and Cara rolled her eyes.

“Leave off with the philosophy crap.”

“Any Mord-Sith who fancies themselves at the top knows the top isn’t exactly a place you occupy for long around here,” Dahlia said. “She’s paranoid, and you just happen to be the first person she’s decided needs to be put back in place.”

“She’s right to be paranoid about me,” Cara muttered, and it was Dahlia’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Right. Because you’re so dangerously predictable.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, Dahlia. You’re not good at it.”

“And you’re not good at subtlety. If you wanted Denna to be paranoid enough to set up some elaborate scheme to discredit you, the entire People’s Palace would know about it.”

Cara was silent. Dahlia had a point.

“Which means, if it’s not some plan of Denna’s—”

“Which it probably is.”

“But if it’s not, then this wizard might actually know you.”

Cara slapped her hands against her bed, frustrated. “But how? How can he know me and I not have any idea who he is?”

“Dunno. What’d he say to you?”

Cara hesitated, not quite sure how much she should reveal, even to Dahlia. She pressed her fingertips into her eyebrow and stared at the ceiling. It was crazy, what he’d said to her—different worlds, different times, but still the same—she couldn’t even wrap her head around the possibility of it being true. She lived in the here and now. All this magical business was way over her head and worse, made her feel out of control of her own life. And Cara did not like feeling out of control.

“He said he knew me in a different world.”

Dahlia tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well, maybe he did.”

“That’s it?” Cara demanded. “That’s all you have? Maybe he’s telling the truth?”

“He’s a wizard,” Dahlia pointed out. “I don’t know what they can do. And neither do you. Maybe he _is_ telling the truth.”

Cara shook her head. It was a stupid conversation, and the longer it progressed the more uncomfortable she became. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t?”

Cara lifted her head from the bed and glared at Dahlia. “No,” she snapped. “It doesn’t.”

Dahlia made a whatever-you-say face and pushed herself to her feet. “I don’t know, Cara,” she said as she sauntered to the door, her tone half-mocking, half-serious. “Strange burns you don’t remember getting…a wizard who says you’re stuck in a spell gone wrong…” Dahlia turned as she walked out the door. “If I were you, I’d seriously think about it.”

With a growl, Cara flung a pillow after her.

Think. Thinking was definitely the last thing she wanted to be doing.


	27. Better in Time

Denna didn’t ask her to speak with the wizard again, and Cara made it a point to pretend she didn’t care. Dahlia, too, dropped the subject, which was a development Cara hadn’t even bothered to hope for. Not talking about it didn’t keep it out of Cara’s head, though. It irritated her, how much sleep she lost wondering about the wizard’s other world, imagining what another version of herself might be like…

Trying to remember her days in the People’s Palace before the wizard arrived.

She could remember being trained. Could remember meeting Darken Rahl for the first time. But there was a blank spot in her brain—a blur of color that made her head hurt whenever she tried to bring it into focus. Cara didn’t understand it. How could it be possible, that an absence of memory could serve as proof that something happened?

Cara dug her thumbs into the ridge of eyebrows and let out a frustrated breath. Normally when she couldn’t sleep she’d find someone to have sex with. And normally she wasn’t picky. But evidently her visit to the wizard had messed with more than just her head, because Cara couldn’t do it. Not even with Dahlia, who was familiar enough to make it easy. She just felt…off. Distracted. And for some reason, it suddenly mattered that Dahlia wasn’t a brunette.

Someone knocked at her door, quietly, and Cara exhaled heavily with irritation.

“What?” she snapped.

“It’s me,” Dahlia said quietly.

“I’m sleeping.”

“No, you’re not. I’m coming in.” Dahlia opened the door, momentarily blinding Cara with the light from her candle.

“I wasn’t kidding,” Cara growled, holding a hand in front of her face. “I really was trying to sleep.”

In response, Dahlia tossed something small and heavy on the bed near Cara’s knees.

Cara fumbled for it. It felt distinctly like a key. “What is this?”

“You might not have wanted to talk to your little wizard friend, but that doesn’t mean somebody else didn’t,” Dahlia said quietly. She stepped close to the bed and lit Cara’s lantern.

Cara squinted up at her, immediately suspicious. “What did you do?”

“I drugged Denna and took the key to the wizard’s cell.” Dahlia forced a smile. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Dahlia.” Cara shook her head, thoroughly confused. “What—“

“You need to run,” Dahlia interrupted. She pulled Cara’s blankets away to emphasize her point.

Cara shook her head. She set the key on her nightstand firmly. “I’m not—“

Dahlia caught Cara’s face between her hands and forced her to meet her eyes. “Cara,” she said slowly, deliberately, “She is going to kill you.”

Cara blinked. She pulled back, trying to free herself from Dahlia’s grip. “I didn’t—“

“It doesn’t matter,” Dahlia insisted. “It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do. She’s been talking to the wizard. In his version of the world, you helped kill Darken Rahl. You betrayed the Mord-Sith.”

“I never—“

“It doesn’t _matter!_ ” Dahlia snapped. “It doesn’t matter if it’s real or not! All Denna needed was an excuse, and now she has one. If you killed Darken Rahl in his world, then chances are you’ll do the same thing in this one.”

Cara pulled away. Her hands were sweating, and for the first time in a long time she felt fear beginning in the pit of her stomach. “That’s insane,” she said. “It doesn’t even make sense.”

“It makes more sense than some of the other stuff she’s pulled,” Dahlia pointed out.

Cara put her face in her hands, trying to work through it all on her own. She felt like an idiot. Of course Denna wouldn’t just let it drop. What was wrong with her, that she’d thought Denna’s silence meant she’d moved on to something else? She heard Dahlia move away, heard the rustle of fabric, and Cara looked up.

“What are you doing?”

“Packing you a bag.”

“I’m not leaving,” Cara said sharply, and Dahlia froze.

“Cara, I’m not kidding. If you stay here Denna’s going to kill you.”

“I can handle Denna,” Cara said confidently. She wouldn’t leave—couldn’t leave. The thought of running, of abandoning everything she’d ever known…it made her stomach churn the same way hearing the key turn in her cell door did during her training. She was a Mord-Sith. If she ran…what was she if she ran? She could feel Dahlia watching her. Cara refused to meet her gaze. She shouldn’t have to explain. Dahlia should understand.

“It’s not just Denna,” Dahlia said. “She has a whole group of Mord-Sith she’s got convinced. One of which she’s sent to Rahl. She’s not fighting fair, Cara. She wants you dead, and if you stay…” Dahlia let the threat hang.

“So this is your plan?” Cara lifted the key from the nightstand. “Run away with the wizard?”

“That’s the gist of it, yes.”

“And prove all of Denna’s suspicions when I do it,” Cara pointed out.

Dahlia shrugged. “If she’s going to kill you for something you didn’t do, might as well go out with a bang.”

 “That’s horrible logic, Dahlia.”

“I thought it was pretty brilliant, actually.”

Cara rolled the key between her fingers, considering. “How long do I have before Denna wakes up?”

“It was Powdered Plothrip.”

“So an hour.”

Dahlia nodded, and Cara sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Give me a minute to get dressed.” 

* * *

The wizard looked a good deal more miserable when Cara opened his cell door for the second time, though when he lifted his head from his cot he again looked excited to see her. For the life of her, Cara couldn’t understand why. If he wasn’t crazy, if he did know a different version of her, then she couldn’t imagine they’d be so different that he’d actually be happy to see her.

His smile faltered when he spotted Dahlia. “Cara, who’s this?”

Cara ignored the question. It irked her, the familiar way he said her name. Like he had a claim on her friendship that he didn’t acknowledge Dahlia as having. They didn’t know each other, he wasn’t a Mord-Sith, and she certainly didn’t owe him any explanations. She jerked her chin at him. “Up.”

The wizard pushed himself to his feet slowly. His ankle chain was gone; talking to Denna must have come with a reward, then.

Cara indicated the open cell door with a tilt of her head. “Let’s go.”

The wizard hesitated. “To where?”

“Away,” Cara said shortly. Creator, what was wrong with him? What sort of prisoner didn’t jump at the chance for freedom?

Slowly, the wizard shuffled forward, looking for all the world like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Cara rolled her eyes and spun her hand in the universal gesture for _get a move on_. “It’s not an execution march,” she said, exasperated. “We’re just going for a nice walk to the stables.”

“And after that?”

Cara prodded the wizard forward, placing him between Dahlia and herself. “After that, you go wherever you want to go. I don’t care, just as long as it makes Denna mad that we’re gone, I’m happy.”

Dahlia cleared her throat pointedly. Cara ignored her. Dahlia was still hung up on the idea that the wizard might be telling the truth, was convinced that Cara needed to stay with him. Cara had reminded her several times already that she did not play well with others, and that she would rather not be a part of the crazy. It was a practice in self-denial, though. For her own sake she needed everyone else to believe she was solid and whole and didn’t have a brain full of missing pieces. Maybe the wizard could fill in the blank spots. Maybe he couldn’t. And if he couldn’t, then there was no sense in driving herself crazy trying to fix something that was never going to be fixed.

The courtyards were abandoned, as were the stables. It was odd, Cara thought. Not that everything was empty—that was normal. It was that running away was so easy. When she was younger, freshly broken, she’d thought running was impossible. Now it proved to be the simplest thing in the world. She expected someone to jump out at any moment and catch them—half hoped someone would stop her—but no one did. The Mord-Sith were comfortable; confident no one would want to leave and no one would be stupid enough to break in. It was a serious security flaw, and Cara made a mental note to bring it up with Mistress Nathair the next day. She stopped mid-cinch as she tightened her horse’s saddle, the full weight of the thought bringing her up short. She was not going to be here tomorrow, Cara reminded herself sternly. Her brain needed to catch up with her actions. 

“Here.”

Cara turned, and Dahlia pressed a folded leather pouch into her hand.

“What is this?”

“For the wizard. If you ever decide to take the Rada’Han off his neck, you’re going to have to pick that padlock.” Dahlia shrugged. “I had to guess on the pick sizes. I gave you three, just in case.”

For the life of her, Cara couldn’t figure out why Dahlia was so certain she was going to stick with the wizard. Common sense told her to split with him and give the Mord-Sith two trails to follow instead of one. It also told her not to give him free reign of his powers. Cara sighed heavily and slipped the pouch into her saddlebag without a ‘thank you’.

Dahlia pretended not to notice. “Are you ready?”

No, Cara was not ready. They had no food packed and the only money she had was a small pouch of silver that would buy them a loaf of bread and not much else. She needed supplies and Dahlia was practically running them out of the palace. “Why are you in such a hurry to get rid of us?” Cara groused. 

“One hour, remember?”

Cara snorted and checked the tightness of her saddle. “Let’s not pretend you’re not just getting rid of me to take my place in the pecking order.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Dahlia said quietly, “Sure. That’s why I’m doing it.”

Cara faltered. Dahlia had always been…well, if Mord-Sith had friends, then Dahlia was a friend. She was smart but she had a tendency to stupidly put herself at risk for Cara’s sake. And she never seemed to mind when Cara didn’t return the favor. Cara was blind to a lot of things, and maybe it had taken her a little longer than it should have to figure Dahlia’s reasons out, exactly, but she knew that Dahlia’s attention came from a place of honest feeling. And even if Cara still considered Dahlia’s attachment to her a weakness, she couldn’t throw it in Dahlia’s face. Not now. Not when Dahlia was perhaps saving her life as a result of that attachment. Cara sighed.

“No,” she muttered. “I know why.” She turned and placed one hand on Dahlia’s waist and kissed her, trying to push everything she couldn’t say into the connection. Good-bye and thank you and I’m sorry and _thank you._ Dahlia melted—she always melted—and Cara pulled away gently. Dahlia’s mouth quirked bashfully and she ducked her head, rubbing her lips together. Cara pushed her hip once, playfully, then turned and hauled herself into the saddle. She waited impatiently for the wizard to weakly haul himself into his own saddle. His head brushed the ceiling of the stable, and he ducked quickly with a curse to avoid any low hanging beams.

“I think you two are going to have fun,” Dahlia said, watching him, and Cara tried to turn her horse so that she could kick her in the ribs. Dahlia grinned slyly at her. “Be safe.”

Cara nudged her horse forward. “Take care of that bleeding heart,” she called over her shoulder.

If Dahlia said anything in reply, Cara couldn’t hear it over the clop of her horse’s hooves. The dark descended on them, silent and secret, and for the first time in her life Cara Mason felt unprepared for what might be lurking in the shadows.

* * *

 “Explain it to me again,” Cara instructed.

The wizard sighed heavily. He’d wasted no time launching into an explanation of who he was and who Cara was supposed to be and what had been happening in his version of the world, and none of it made any logical sense. It probably didn’t help that she was trying to understand “complex metaphysical processes”, as he called them, on no sleep and an empty stomach. Then again, she understood one in ten words that came out of his mouth. Sleep probably wasn’t a big factor in her comprehension.

“If you don’t understand it—“

“I would understand it if you explained it properly,” Cara snapped. All this business about two different places in time existing simultaneously except it was only one space and they were experiencing it separately. He kept insisting that they existed in a new time, but not a different one, and if he said “not exactly” one more time, she was going to scream.

“Would you like me to draw you a picture?”

Cara glared at him. He was taking familiar liberties with her again—teasing and making jokes at her expense and apparently completely confident that she wouldn’t poke him with an agiel when he wasn’t looking. For the life of her, Cara couldn’t understand why any version of herself would put up with him.

“I don’t need a picture. I don’t understand how I can exist here but still have existed somewhere else.”

“Some _time_ else,” the wizard corrected her.

Cara waved a hand at him, frustrated. Messing with _where_ was easier for her to understand than messing with _when_. “What do you mean by you erased the in between parts?”

“I shouldn’t have said erased,” the wizard muttered to himself. He sighed. “It’s not erased. It’s still there, but _we’re_ not there.”

“I understand that part,” Cara insisted. “I don’t understand how we can fall out of where we were and into a new world and have no memories of the old one, and then drop back in and then oops—“ Cara slapped her hands together to emphasize her point. “All of our old memories are back.”

“Your memories,” the wizard corrected. “I kept all of mine.”

“So where are mine?” Cara demanded.

“In your head.”

“ _No_ , they are _not_.”

“Think of it…” the wizard frowned and pulled at his chin. He’d been coming up with metaphors and examples for the better part of the morning, and none of them had helped. Her frustration had made her curious, though. She’d planned on abandoning him just as soon as they were a few miles from the People’s Palace, but his attempts to explain how he knew her and why they found themselves in their current predicament had prolonged her separation. Especially after he’d said he wouldn't be the only one that remembered. The Confessor—Kahlan—she’d been touching him when he cast the spell and he’d used her Confessor magic—siphoned it and created a sort of tether in the process of casting the spell—that should have protected her memories.

“Think of it as the spell trying to fit you in,” the wizard said slowly. “So that no one would suspect you weren’t where you should be.” He snapped his fingers excitedly. “Yes. Like brain washing. For you to fit in, you needed to be able to function normally. And to function normally…” He made a wiping motion with his hand.

It made more sense than when he’d said her brain was a chalkboard.

“So they are still in there,” the wizard continued, “we just have to be in a place where it’s safe for you to experience them again. “

“Back in your world.”

“Our world,” he corrected.

Cara rolled her eyes.

“You’ll see,” he promised. “When Kahlan remembers you too, you’ll see.”

Cara snorted. If he thought she was going to take the word of a Confessor, he had another thing coming. 

* * *

 The Midlands made Cara anxious.

Zedd scoffed at her pacing. “You’re with me,” he said. “No one here is going to bother you.”

“No one even knows who you are,” Cara snapped. She twisted her hand around the hilt of one agiel and shot him a scathing glare.

“No one knows who you are, either,” Zedd pointed out. He’d given Cara his cloak and it was more than long enough to hide every inch of her leathers. In his eyes, Cara had nothing to be nervous about.

“How long do we wait here before you accept that this Kahlan isn’t coming?”

“At least another hour,” Zedd said casually. “What are you in such a hurry for? You said yourself you don’t have anything better to do.”

They were standing in the middle of a stone bridge in the shadow of a temple, waiting for Kahlan. Well…Zedd was waiting for Kahlan. Cara was splitting her time between visualizing a fight between every person that crossed the bridge and waiting for their messenger to return with a note that said Kahlan the Confessor had no idea who Zedd the Wizard even was.

“If you get me confessed, wizard, I swear to the Creator—“

“You’ll do whatever your mistress tells you to do?” Zedd chuckled at his own joke and popped a bright green nut that Cara had a hard time believing wasn’t meant for the horses into his mouth.

“I don’t think you understand how Confession works for Mord-Sith.”

Zedd snorted. “Believe me…” he trailed off, his expression shifting suddenly as his eyes focused on something over Cara’s shoulder. He straightened and a slow smile spread across his weathered face.

“What?” Cara demanded.

Zedd lifted his chin.“Kahlan’s here.”

Cara turned. A young woman wearing the white dress of the Confessors was striding briskly across the bridge. She was smiling broadly with recognition, and Zedd brushed past Cara to wrap her in an enthusiastic hug. She laughed when Zedd lifted her off her feet.

“I didn’t know what to do!” Kahlan exclaimed. She was laughing with relief. “One minute I think we’re going to die and the next I wake up in my own bed—“

“I apologize, truly, I had no other options,” Zedd said contritely.

“We’re alive, I can hardly complain.” Kahlan’s gaze flicked to Cara, and if it was possible her smile grew even bigger. “Cara,” she said happily. She took a step forward and Cara backpedaled quickly. Kahlan’s smile faded slightly. Cara saw her eyes flick to Zedd. Zedd winced and shook his head.

“She doesn’t remember,” Zedd said. “Richard won’t either.”

“Oh,” Kahlan said quietly, and if Cara didn’t know better she’d say the Confessor sounded…hurt. Cara looked away quickly when Kahlan turned back towards her, pretending to be engrossed with the river flowing past.

“Well,” Kahlan said slowly, “I’m glad…” she stopped and shook her head. “No. Never mind.” She laughed hollowly. “It won’t make sense anyway.”

“Welcome to my world,” Zedd chimed.

Cara glared at him. “Quit looking at me,” she snapped, shoving past Zedd and Kahlan and stalking across the bridge. She was rattled. She felt cornered and agitated, out of control of her own life.

And having two strange people looking at her like she was only a fragment of what she should be wasn’t helping at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!


	28. Deep Streaming Truth

It became very obvious, very quickly, that this new Cara was very far from being an exact, albeit confused version of the Cara Kahlan knew. Zedd speculated that it was due to a lack of Richard’s tempering influence; he was not present to offer Cara an alternative Rahl to obey, nor had Cara made the decision to help Richard overthrow Darken Rahl as she had in their own world. It was all sound logic, but the knowledge that Kahlan alone was not enough to soften Cara’s attitude was almost a physical pain in her chest. She had underestimated Richard’s impact on Cara, and she was having a hard time deciding if Cara had underestimated it as well, or if she used her sarcasm and criticism of Richard to hide just how much power he actually held over her. Cara had made the rule that they would never discuss Richard, after all. Maybe she was simply unwilling to be confronted with her betrayal. Which, in an odd way, actually made Kahlan feel better about her own actions. If they were both concerned for Richard, if their relationship had developed in secret out of a desire to protect him, then she felt confident—more confident than she had before, at least—that Cara was actually emotionally invested. It was reassuring to think so, especially since this “raw” Cara, as Zedd had labeled her, seemed incapable of any emotion besides anger and sarcasm.

“I can’t imagine a palace full of women like her,” Zedd muttered conspiratorially as Cara stalked away, her bedroll slung over her shoulder. She slept as far as possible from Kahlan and Zedd every night, a new development since Kahlan had joined them, evidently convinced Kahlan was going to confess her.

Kahlan shrugged in response. In a way, this behavior was familiar. It was how Cara always acted whenever she was confused and not in control. She was horrible to be around, yes—she was brutally dismissive of everything Kahlan and Zedd said, and it hurt, but not more than the knowledge that there was nothing Kahlan could do or say to comfort her. She was a Confessor again, Cara’s sworn enemy, and she was lying to herself if she said she didn’t spend the majority of her days trying to prove she and Cara were actually friends. She smiled, she asked Cara’s opinion, and Cara consistently replied with either scathing sarcasm or frigid silence. Kahlan knew she should stop—this was a fragment of the Cara she knew—and yet it was still Cara. She walked the same, she sounded the same, and it was disturbingly easy to forget that she wasn’tt the same and step too close and then be forced to watch Cara recoil from her in horror. Kahlan had never appreciated before just how much trust it had taken for Cara to allow Kahlan to touch her, but now—now that she’d seen the blank fear in Cara’s eyes when Kahlan tapped her shoulder or brushed her arm—she knew she’d never take her ability to touch Cara for granted again.

“It will be interesting to see how she and Richard interact,” Zedd mused as he unrolled his own blankets. “Maybe she’ll be nicer to him, considering he has no memories of us, either.”

Kahlan laughed hollowly. “I wouldn’t count on it. I remember what Richard was like in the beginning. I don’t think she’s going to be impressed.”

Zedd tilted his head thoughtfully. “No, perhaps not,” he admitted.

The clank of buckles drew Kahlan’s attention. Cara had never completely undressed in her presence—fear of Confession, Kahlan was sure—but she did remove her Mord-Sith armor before she slept. It hypnotized Kahlan every night; she felt like a voyeur, watching as "raw" Cara shed her neck guard and corset and belt and shook out her braid and blurred the line between the Cara Kahlan knew and the one she was presented with now. Kahlan craved the nightly display, needed the brief (though entirely physical) proof that her Cara still existed. She looked away quickly, before Cara had a chance to turn and catch Kahlan looking.

Again.

“Do you agree?”

Kahlan blinked. Zedd was asking her opinion, and she had not even realized he was speaking. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Three is better than one.”

“If you’re trying to involve me in your threesome, Wizard, the answer is no,” Cara shouted in their direction, her tone wickedly suggestive.

Zedd threw his hands up, irritated. “If you’d like to be involved in planning, Cara, then by all means—”

In response, Cara flopped heavily onto her bedroll and promptly pulled the blanket over her head.

Zedd looked ready to scorch her blanket, and Kahlan touched his arm, drawing his attention from Cara. “Three what?” she prompted.

“I was _saying_ that the three of us together are more likely to convince Richard to come along than sending someone on their own. Or do you think it might seem like too much of an ambush?”

Kahlan shook her head. “Three people sound sincere. One person sounds crazy.”

“My thoughts exactly. Although…” Zedd glanced in Cara’s direction and lowered his voice. “I’m slightly concerned that Cara being there will do more harm than good.”

“Oh, for Creator’s sake.” Cara sat up and slapped her arms against her legs in irritation. “I’ve come this far, haven’t I?” she demanded crossly. “Why in the name of all things sacred would I put up with you two for the past week, travel to the middle of the equivalent of the Keeper’s armpit, just to mess up your stupid little quest?”

Kahlan bit back a smile. “She has a point. Zedd.”

Cara glared at her. “Of course I have a point. If I wanted to ruin your party, I would have just stayed home.”

“I’m just worried that you might scare him off, that’s all,” Zedd protested.

“Forgive me, but I wasn’t under the impression that this heroic Seeker was also a delicate flower.”

“He’s not—”

“Then what, exactly, is the problem?”

“The problem,” Zedd began stiffly, “is that you very obviously do not believe a single word we say, and we are under a very tight schedule. If you start making comments, Richard may very well decide to slip off into the woods for a day or two, and waiting for him to come around is not a luxury we have.”

“There. Was that so hard?” Cara snapped. “I swear, you two dance around issues like they’re trying to bite you.”

“ _We_ dance around issues?” It was out before Kahlan had a chance to censor herself, and the look Cara shot her was pure venom. Kahlan smiled sweetly, refusing to back down. Her Cara would have bantered back, and just because this version hadn’t managed to find her sense of humor yet didn’t mean Kahlan was going to cower before her.

“I’m going to sleep,” Cara said after a moment, her glare still fixed purposefully on Kahlan. “If bandits come in the middle of the night to kill us all, please: don’t wake me up.” She dropped back on her side and pulled the blanket back over her head.

Zedd tried for one last parting shot. “Dying in your sleep? That’s not very noble; are you sure you’re a properly trained Mord-Sith?”

Cara lifted one hand straight into the air and flashed an obscene hand gesture in his direction.

Kahlan pressed her fingertips into her into the ridge of her eyebrows and took a deep breath. “I’m starting to realize just how dysfunctional we are, Zedd. How do we get anything done?”

“Luck,” Zedd decided after a moment.

It was not a reassuring thought, and Kahlan told him so.

“Believe me, I’m well aware. Especially since, historically, luck runs out right when you need it most.” He rubbed his lips together thoughtfully, staring into space.

“You think we won’t get back in time.”

“It’s not that I think we won’t,” Zedd said distractedly, “It’s just…an awful lot depends on two people who don’t have any idea what we’re talking about and could probably care less.” He glanced at Kahlan quickly out of the corner of his eye, as if he expected her to argue that no, Richard would listen and Richard would help because at his core, he was still the Seeker. Kahlan said nothing—the same worries had been plaguing her for the past few days as well. Reversing the spell depended entirely on having the four of them present. And since their little pocket of an alternate universe experienced time the same as the world they’d dropped out of, the impending Summer Solstice was still very much a concern. They had three days to save the world. They’d stopped a mile from Richard’s house tonight—he was almost within reach, they were poised on that precarious precipice of total success and total failure. But if Richard wasn’t home or if he thought they were all crazy and he decided to slip away…

Kahlan shook her head. Their margin of error was almost nonexistent. Add Cara’s unpredictability to Richard’s, and they had a recipe for disaster on their hands.

Tying them both to trees was looking more and more appealing.

* * *

 Cara made it no secret that she was unimpressed with Westland in general, and she wasted no time in extending her derision to Richard’s childhood home.

“I didn’t know heroes lived in hovels,” she said mildly. She peeled a piece of flaking bark from the logs making up the outer walls of Richard’s house and flicked it to the ground carelessly.

“Yes, well, not everyone can live in a palace,” Zedd grumbled.

“I thought you said he used a sword,” she continued.

“He does.”

“Let me guess. He does this with it.” Cara brought her hands together over her head and brought them down in a slow chopping motion.

Kahlan bit her lip to keep from smiling. “He does.”

“How do you know that?” Zedd demanded suspiciously.

Cara rolled her eyes and slumped against the side of the house. She gestured towards the yard in general. It was littered with wood chips and split logs of various sizes. “I’m sorry to say, Wizard, that you’re following a hero who’s not even smart enough to choose the right weapon for himself.”

“He wields it well,” Kahlan protested, but she knew it was weak. Now that Cara had pointed it out, there was a definite hacking and chopping mentality that seemed to influence Richard’s sword play. Perhaps he was better suited for an ax than a sword.

Cara pinched her lips together and purposefully turned her head a hair to the right, silently enforcing her absolute unwillingness to be in any way affiliated with a Confessor. Kahlan ground her teeth together. She knew why Cara was so withdrawn from her, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.

“Just knock,” Kahlan told Zedd crossly.

Zedd did so, and after a moment of strained listening for the faint sound of footsteps approaching from the other side, he knocked again.

“Oh, look, nobody’s home,” Cara said, her tone one of sarcastic cheerfulness. She pushed away from the house, swinging her arms casually. “What a pity.” She made the short jump from the porch to the ground. “I’m off.”

Zedd turned slowly, his face an unpleasant shade of purple-red. “You’re not going anywhere!” he shouted, his voice uncharacteristically deep—it reverberated in Kahlan’s chest.

“Neither are you!” Cara called over her shoulder.

“Cara Mason, if you don’t stop...!” Zedd trailed off warningly. Cara proceeded to saunter away, her braid swishing mockingly as she walked.

Zedd muttered something under his breath. A split piece of wood about as long as Kahlan’s thigh and just as wide levitated from the ground, then shot forward, cracking Cara across the back of the head. Her knees buckled and she folded to the ground awkwardly, landing face first amongst the wood chips.

“Zedd!” Kahlan cried, aghast. She leapt from the porch and rushed to Cara’s side. She was unconscious, her right cheek and temple scraped raw by her fall. “What were you thinking?!?” Kahlan demanded. She was sure the blow hadn’t killed Cara, but she stuck two fingers in front of Cara’s nose just to be sure, relief flooding through her when she felt Cara’s warm breath wash over her skin.

“I was thinking that neither of us could conceivably stop her if she decided to leave,” Zedd said. He was trying to make his action sound justified, but Kahlan could hear the regret in his voice all the same.

“And what do we do when she wakes up?” Kahlan demanded. “She’s certainly not going to want to help us then.”

“We could tie her up.”

“ _Zedd!_ ”

Zedd winced. “You asked.”

“Excuse me…”

Kahlan spun on her knees, one hand pressed protectively against Cara’s shoulder. Richard was standing several feet away, a pair of dead hares slung over his shoulder and a look of utmost confusion on his face.

“Can I help you?”

“Richard…” Zedd breathed. Richard glanced at him and furrowed his brow.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?”

“No,” Kahlan said quickly. Sprits, Zedd was bad at this. How he’d ever managed to convince Cara to leave the People’s Palace was beyond her. “No, you don’t know us. We were looking for a woodsman, and someone suggested we speak to you.”

Richard studied her for a moment, considering. His honest nature was in full force; there was not a hint of suspicion in his gaze, which was nothing short of a miracle, considering she was a complete stranger kneeling next to an unconscious woman in the middle of his yard.

“Why do you need a woodsman?”

It was a good question, and if Kahlan had been given more than five seconds to come up with a lie, she’d have an answer. She made a helpless noise in the back of her throat, and Zedd leaped to her rescue.

“We were going to ask you to help us track this…this…” he gestured toward Cara’s limp form helplessly. “Criminal,” he finished lamely. “But, as you can see, we caught her.”

Richard was studying Cara. He looked unconvinced. “What did she do?”

“Killed someone.” A beat. “Actually, more than just one. Several.”

“She’s very dangerous,” Kahlan added. She took comfort in the fact that if Cara were awake she’d appreciate the adjective.

“Yes. Very.” Zedd nodded emphatically. “You wouldn’t happen to have any rope we could tie her up with, would you?” Kahlan exhaled sharply, hoping the noise would reinforce her opposition to tying Cara up, but Zedd ignored her. “We’d pay you for it, of course.”

Richard nodded slowly. “I have some, yeah. Just a moment.” He took a few cautious steps forward, watching Kahlan and Zedd warily. There was a dull clunk—Richard’s eyes rolled back into his head and he fell forward, landing with a thump on the ground. A piece of wood landed next to him.

“ _Zedd_!” Kahlan shouted.

“It’s effective!” Zedd said defensively.

Kahlan shook her head, too stunned to berate him further.

“Both of them are here, safe and sound—”

“Safe,” Kahlan growled, “is maybe not the best word for what they are.”

“—and when they wake up they’ll be back in the right world, with all their memories back. It’s a win-win.”

“We can’t go back before they wake up!” Kahlan cried. “What if Darken Rahl is sitting there, waiting for us? What are we supposed to do, ask him to postpone the battle until Richard and Cara are awake and ready to fight?”

Zedd’s face fell. “I didn’t think of that,” he admitted.

Kahlan buried her face in her hands, pressing the heel of her palms into her cheekbones. She shook her head. Richard and Cara were going to kill them. “Go get the rope,” she mumbled. 

* * *

Cara was the first to wake. Her head bobbed once, then she slowly lifted her chin from her chest, blinking against the late afternoon sun, trying and failing to keep both eyes open simultaneously. Kahlan knelt in front of her quickly, and for once Cara didn’t immediately try to pull away. Not that she could if she’d wanted to: Zedd had used an excessive amount of rope to tie Cara to a tree. The only body parts she could move semi-comfortably were her ankles and head.

“Hey,” Kahlan said quietly, “I’m sorry. Don’t move around too much.”

Cara closed her eyes and leaned her head against the tree trunk. “Bags,” she swore hoarsely.

Kahlan winced sympathetically. “I know. You have bad luck when it comes to getting hit on the head.”

“Does it really count as bad luck if it was on purpose?” Cara demanded weakly.

“Probably not.”

Cara tried to adjust her position, sighing heavily when movement proved impossible. She struggled to force both eyes open. “I forgot. I don’t want you near me.”

Kahlan shrugged, unconcerned. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Probably go back to sleep,” Cara said. Her eyes began to slip shut again.

“Cara, no, you really shouldn’t—” Kahlan reached out, touching Cara’s unscathed left cheek. Cara flinched. Her eyes were wild when they snapped open again, and Kahlan pulled away quickly. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

Cara watched her warily for a moment, obviously trying to force herself to focus. “You do that like you’re used to it,” she said finally. It was an observation, not an accusation, and after two weeks of tiptoeing around Cara, of forcing herself to keep her distance, Cara’s simple observation was like a breath of much needed fresh air.

Kahlan nodded slowly. “I know. I do. I am. Used to it, I mean.”

Cara swallowed. She seemed to be contemplating saying something, rolling the words around in her mouth behind closed lips. “And I…let you?” she asked finally.

Kahlan nodded slowly. “Sometimes.” Her mouth quirked into a soft smile. “You’re getting better about it.”

Cara looked completely confused. She closed her eyes and rolled her head back and forth slightly. “Why would I…” she trailed off, then looked at Kahlan as if Kahlan might know the answer.

Kahlan let out a quiet laugh. “That’s a good question. Remind me to ask you when we get back.”

A weak smile tugged at the corners of Cara’s mouth. “I could tell I bothered you. I just couldn’t figure out why.”

Kahlan paused, considering. “You’re very…different. Here. It makes it hard.”

Cara nodded. She looked away, focusing her gaze on the ground, and clenched her jaw. “Am I…better? In the other world?”

“You’re you,” Kahlan said quietly. “In both worlds, you’re you. Just at different points. One’s not better or worse—”

“But you prefer the other me.”

“I _miss_ the other you,” Kahlan clarified, “Because I wish you remembered me." She shook her head. "It's hard to explain. I hate…censoring myself. But if this was it? If you were never ever going to get your memories back? If we were staying in this world? I wouldn’t...I wouldn't walk away.” Kahlan shrugged helplessly as she felt the weight of that truth settle in her chest. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Cara whispered. She seemed torn between fear and fascination—terrified that she was capable of the things Kahlan was telling her she was, while at the same time fascinated by the prospect.

Kahlan gave her a small smile. “I don’t know why. Because…it’s…good. It’s just... _good_." She laughed quietly, embarrassed by her lack of eloquence. "And I’d be an idiot to not hold onto that for as long as I could.”

Cara nodded slowly. She still did not look completely comfortable with the idea, and she refused to meet Kahlan’s gaze. Which was fine with Kahlan; she wasn’t sure she could handle Cara looking at her without that flash of intimate recognition Kahlan hadn’t noticed in her eyes until it was gone. Maybe it was good that Cara didn’t remember her. Her curiosity had forced Kahlan to say some things out loud that she’d been too scared to admit in her own head for some time.

Cara pointed her left foot. “Is that Richard?” she asked, blatantly changing the subject.

“It is.”

“He didn’t want to come either?”

“Zedd didn’t give him the option. As soon as he wakes up we’re going back.”

“Where is the Wizard?” Cara demanded, slightly more alert at the mention of Zedd’s name.

“Getting supplies for his spell. Why?”

“Because there’s a log over there with his name on it.”

“He feels very sorry for what he did.”

“Not yet, he doesn’t.”

“As soon as we’re back,” Kahlan promised, “I give you full authority to teach him a lesson.” She paused. “Though there’s a chance you won’t remember any of this.”

“My head feels like it’s being marched over by a squadron of D’Haran soldiers. I think I’ll remember,” Cara pointed out.

“I’m just saying. In case you don’t, I’ll remind you.”

“Good. Thank you.” Cara took a deep breath and closed her eyes, relaxing against the tree again. “Of everything?” she asked after a moment.

“Sorry. What?”

“Will you remind me of everything? What we were talking about before? Or do I know all that stuff already?”

“Oh.” Kahlan bit her lip. She shook her head. “No. You don’t know. Not…not everything I said.”

“I want to know,” Cara said. Her green eyes were hard with resolve, daring Kahlan to back down. “If I don’t remember, I want to know.”

Kahlan nodded once. One single, solitary lift of her chin.

Never in her life had such a simple gesture felt so final.


	29. No Place Like Home

“Ready?” Kahlan asked Zedd quietly. He’d been standing still, surveying the symbols he’d drawn on the ground for several moments.

Zedd nodded distractedly. “I think so, yes.”

“I’m not,” Richard interjected. He kicked his legs, trying to unsettle the Sword of Truth Zedd had draped across his lap. Zedd had found it lying across the kitchen table, along with the Stone of Tears, when he’d gone in search of the rope. Richard, not knowing what they were or why he’d woken up in his bed clutching a small blue stone and a sword strapped to his hip, had evidently felt they were important enough to keep within close reach.

“I’m not ready,” Richard repeated when neither Kahlan nor Zedd spared him a glance. “You people need to explain—”

“They did explain,” Cara interrupted crossly. “You’ll remember when we get back. Now shut up. I have a headache.”

“I don’t know how to use this!” Richard protested, wiggling his hips and bouncing the sword. “I don’t know how to fight! You can’t do this. You can’t just throw me into…into…fighting people who are already dead—”

“Banelings,” Cara corrected him shortly. “They’re banelings. Bags,” she muttered, rolling her eyes, “Pay attention.”

Zedd sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just want the two of you to be aware,” he began slowly, “that I’m going to cast this spell, whether you want me to or not—”

Richard made a sound of protest.

“Whether you _want_ me to or _not_ ,” Zedd repeated, raising his voice and injecting a hint of finality into his voice, “and this spell requires a great deal of concentration. If I don’t get a chance to concentrate, if you both insist on shouting at each other and shouting at me, then I’m sorry, but I can’t guarantee that I won’t accidentally liquefy your minds.” He lifted his head and fixed Richard, then Cara, with a stern glare. “Am I clear?”

Richard cowered, avoiding Zedd’s gaze. Cara glared back.

“Good.” Zedd nodded to Kahlan. “You’re part of the spell. You need to be touching me.”

Kahlan stepped forward and put her right hand on Zedd’s shoulder. She took a deep breath, anxiety beginning to churn in her stomach.

“It’ll be fine,” Zedd said. “I assure you, I know what I’m doing.”

“Still,” Kahlan muttered. She shifted nervously; it was different, knowing what was about to happen, being actively involved in _making_ it happen…she wasn’t magical—not the same way Zedd was. She didn’t have the same confidence in her abilities as Zedd did in his. Twenty-six years of being told she wasn’t in control—not completely—would do that. She was having a hard time convincing herself that Zedd would be successful. Unconsciously, her eyes slipped to Cara. She was leaning forward, straining against the ropes holding her to the tree, watching Zedd intently. She blinked once and then her green eyes were on Kahlan, seeing her without really seeing her, and Kahlan clenched her teeth together until her jaw hurt.

Worth it. It was worth it. Even if it went bad…

There was a chance that it wouldn’t, and that was entirely worth it.

Kahlan squeezed Zedd’s shoulder. He straightened and took a deep breath, held it, and began making small, precise gestures with his hands. She didn’t feel any different—not at first. Not until white light started to crawl up Zedd’s arms towards her hand. It touched her skin—got brighter, more intense the moment it did, blinding her. She felt a gentle tug, somewhere behind her navel that slowly became a hard pull. There was a brief moment of queasiness—like she’d jumped from a great height—and then the light began to fade away, trickling from the outside in. Kahlan blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. The sudden absence of absolute, blinding light left everything a depthless black.

“Zedd?” Kahlan whispered. She squeezed his shoulder nervously.

“Fine,” Zedd said quietly. He sounded exhausted. “Can you see?”

“Not yet. Almost…” Kahlan rubbed her eyes one handed, not quite willing to let Zedd go yet. The world was blurry when she opened them, still darker than it should be, but she could see. They were standing in Declan’s house again, exactly where they had been just before Zedd had cast his spell. “Cara? Richard?”

She heard the rasp of fabric against smooth wood somewhere to her left. She turned—Richard was using the table to pull himself to his feet. He looked shaken— _was_ shaking as he struggled to stand. “Kahlan,” he breathed. Richard fell towards her and wrapped her in a tight embrace, pulling her away from Zedd. Immediately, Kahlan felt her stomach roll. Nausea shot through her. Richard’s hands were moving to her face, trying to pull her in for a kiss. Kahlan twisted her head and pushed against his chest, shoving him away.

“Kahlan, what—”

Richard sounded hurt, but Kahlan was more preoccupied with the bile building in the back of her throat than Richard’s feelings. There was a mixing bowl on the counter—she grabbed it with both hands, breathing shallowly through her nose.

“Kahlan?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t answer. She was going to throw up—

“What’s wrong with her?” Richard demanded.

Zedd started to reply, but a gentle touch against the back of her neck distracted Kahlan from his answer.

“It’s okay.” Cara’s voice was in her ear, soothing and low, and Kahlan almost sobbed with relief. Cara pulled Kahlan’s hair away from her face and collected it behind her head. “Just do it.”

Kahlan started to shake her head—no way was she embarrassing herself, no way was she throwing up in front of everyone—but her stomach was not in consensus with her pride.

Cara pressed her hand against Kahlan’s upper back—the touch was fleeting and uncertain, but nevertheless comforting.

Kahlan coughed and spit. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling shaky and weak. “I’m okay,” she said hoarsely. She straightened and Cara moved away, replaced almost immediately by Richard. He stroked her hair, and Kahlan gave him a small, obligatory smile. “I’m okay,” she repeated, though if Richard noticed her clutching the counter for support, he didn’t mention it.

“A negative reaction to having the connection broken,” Zedd surmised. “I apologize. It can happen. I should have warned you.”

“As long as it isn’t anything else,” Richard said. He ducked his head, searching Kahlan’s eyes for any indication that there was anything else wrong. Kahlan patted his shoulder awkwardly, not exactly sure how else to reassure him.

“I’m fine, I promise.” She glanced at Zedd. “We’re back, right? Back where we should be?”

“Where and when,” Zedd confirmed with a weak smile. He sank slowly into the single upright chair in the dining area and sighed heavily.

“Are you alright?” Richard asked him.

Zedd waved him off. “Tired. That’s all. Do you remember where you were, Richard?”

“I think so.” Richard hesitated. “Kind of. It feels like I just woke up. Like none of it was really real.” He touched the back of his head and squinted at Zedd. “You hit me with a log.”

“Pretend it wasn’t real,” Zedd advised. “If it wasn’t real then I did no such thing.”

“Right,” Richard muttered. He pressed his fingertips into his temples and rubbed. “Where’s Cara? Maybe we should compare lumps; see which one of us is more entitled to return the favor first.”

“She’s outside,” Zedd said. Clearly, he lacked the energy and enthusiasm for banter. Richard shot Kahlan a worried glance, then looked at Zedd pointedly.

“You stay with him,” Kahlan murmured. “I need some fresh air anyway.”

Richard kissed her temple quickly and rubbed her upper arm as Kahlan slipped past him. Pieces of Cara’s shattered agiel crunched under her soles like glass as she moved towards the front door. The handle was still lying on the floor, jagged and sharp and silent. Useless. Dead.

Kahlan stepped outside. Cara was holding onto two of the pillars holding the roof of the porch up, her arms almost completely extended. She was leaning forward precariously, looking out over the yard. Kahlan took a deep breath. The fresh air was a welcome contrast to the foul taste lingering on the back of her tongue. “Cara?”

Cara lifted her head.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Cara said quietly. “You?”

“Better.” Kahlan ran her tongue across her teeth. “I need to clean my mouth.”

Cara didn’t answer. She dropped from the porch and began walking away, moving stiffly and with none of her usual cocky elegance.

“Cara?”

“Wait.”

Kahlan propped herself against one of the posts Cara had vacated and watched as she disappeared around the corner of the house. She waited a moment, staring out into the empty yard, before mentally shaking herself. She’d waited weeks to have Cara back. She wasn’t about to let Cara tell her to wait even longer, even if it was only for a few minutes. She pushed away from the post and slowly followed Cara’s path around the house.

Cara’s head was down as she walked towards Kahlan, fiddling with a dripping water skin in her hands. She glanced up when she heard Kahlan scuff to a stop, then stopped as well. She looked nervous. She couldn’t quite meet Kahlan’s gaze for more than a second, finally settling on staring at Kahlan’s hip. Cara held the skin out awkwardly. “Here.”

“Thank you,” Kahlan said gratefully. She took a small sip, swished, then spit. She repeated the action twice more before taking an actual drink, fully aware the entire time that Cara was very carefully avoiding eye contact. Kahlan wiped her mouth and handed the skin back to Cara. “Thank you,” she repeated.

Cara shrugged.

“How’s your head?” Kahlan asked lamely. It wasn’t at all what she wanted to ask, but she was lost as to how to broach the topic of Cara’s memories of their time in the pocket world. And, beyond that, if the answer was no, where in the Creator’s name was she supposed to find the courage to repeat what she’d promised to repeat?

“It’s fine.”

Kahlan took a deep breath. “Richard…he remembers…” she trailed off, battling a sudden wave of nerves. “Do you…I mean—”

“I remember,” Cara said quietly. She shifted uncomfortably and swallowed so hard Kahlan saw her throat bob.

“You do.”

Cara nodded.

“Everything?”

“Look,” Cara said abruptly, “I don’t know…I apologize. Okay? Good?”

“You apologize?” Kahlan repeated dumbly.

“Yes. I was…well, I was me, but I was…” Cara lifted her arms helplessly, then let them slap back against her thighs.

“Okay,” Kahlan said, drawing the word out slowly, “Can I ask what you’re apologizing for, exactly?”

Cara snarled and ran a hand through her hair, her face tight with barely restrained irritation. She looked to be on the verge of walking away, and Kahlan held her hands up to both stop Cara and appear as non-threatening as possible.

“I’m only asking,” she said carefully, “Because I don’t know what you have to even apologize _for_.”

“Are you serious?” Cara demanded, “I was… _horrible_.”

“You were pretty unpleasant,” Kahlan admitted. “But it was fine. It was normal—”

“I knew you wouldn’t confess me,” Cara interrupted. “After the first day, I knew you wouldn’t, and I still made you think that I did just because I saw how much it bothered you.”

Kahlan blinked. “That’s…Cara, that’s not your fault.”

“Aren’t you _mad_ at me?!?” Cara shouted. Kahlan took a step back, startled by the intensity with which Cara had exploded. She looked furious, and the fact that she was directing that fury at Kahlan made no sense.

Kahlan shook her head. “No. I’m not mad at you.” She shot Cara a small, self-conscious smile. “I’m too happy to have you back to be mad at you.”

Cara scowled. She lifted the water skin and squirted it at the side of the house, slashing her arm through the air violently.

“Why do you _want_ me to be angry with you?” Kahlan asked.

Cara froze, her eyes fixed on the water trickling down the side of the house. “I don’t,” she said stiffly.

“I think you do.”

Cara snorted derisively. “Why would I want that?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

Cara glared at her. “This is ridiculous.”

“I agree. You’re asking me to be angry with you for no reason. That _is_ pretty ridiculous.”

“If you’re too stupid—”

“Do _not_ do that,” Kahlan said, her voice dangerously low. “Do _not_ say something to _make_ me mad at you. I’ve been waiting to be able to talk to you— _you_ , Cara, not some alternate version of you—for the past three weeks. Because I _missed_ talking to _you_. And honestly, this is not how I thought…” Kahlan trailed off. She shook her head and closed her eyes, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I can’t.”

“You can’t, what?” Cara demanded.

“I can’t do this right now,” Kahlan said. “I’m tired, I still feel a little sick, and you obviously don’t want me around any more than you did yesterday, so—” Kahlan turned, fully intending to find something soft to fall down on and not move for several hours. She took two steps before Cara’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Don’t,” Cara said quietly, almost pleadingly. “Just…give me a second. I’ll try—I’m trying…” She exhaled heavily, and Kahlan could imagine her running her hand through her hair again, frustrated with herself. She started to turn around again, but Cara stopped her with a gentle push against her shoulder. “No, don’t…don’t look at me. It’s easier…”

Kahlan set her feet and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting. She could hear Cara shifting nervously behind her, her discomfort palpable.

“What you said,” Cara began. She stopped, was quiet again. “What you said earlier. Before we came back. About this—about me and you…how it’s good?”

Kahlan nodded.

“Right. I just…I can’t—I heard it, and I remember it, and I know how it made me feel then and how it makes me feel now…the other me, I think she thought I was less…less how I am.” She fell silent.

“Is that all?” Kahlan asked quietly.

“I can’t say that stuff,” Cara said. She suddenly sounded shattered and scared; like she was being faced with something dangerous she couldn’t comprehend. “I don’t even know how. You do it. Richard does it—”

“Cara,” Kahlan interrupted firmly. She started to turn around, then hesitated. “Can I look at you now?”

“Fine,” Cara said, trying her best to sound brusque but failing miserably. She was still glaring at the ground when Kahlan turned to face her.

“I want you to answer me honestly,” Kahlan began slowly, “Are you upset with yourself because you want to be able to say the sort of stuff I said, or are you upset with yourself because Richard can say it and you can’t?”

“What’s the difference?” Cara snapped. “It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not. One’s a competition, the other is a goal.”

Cara scuffed her foot against the ground.

“It’s not a competition, Cara.”

“No, I know it’s not!” Cara snapped. “I’m very much aware that it’s not, because if it was, I’d have an actual chance—” She broke off suddenly, clamping her mouth shut quickly and swallowing her words.

“A chance at what?” Kahlan demanded. “At winning?”

Cara shrugged. In Kahlan’s eyes it was as good as a yes. Yes, she thought she was still solidly occupying second place.

“Spirits, Cara,” Kahlan sighed. “You don’t listen do you?” She crooked a finger at Cara. “Come here.”

“Why?”

Kahlan shrugged. “I asked you to.”

Cara took a step forward, close enough for Kahlan to reach out and catch her by the waist. Cara accepted the contact grudgingly, allowing herself to be pulled closer. Kahlan leaned forward, pecking Cara lightly on the lips and taking Cara by surprise.

“What was that for?”

Kahlan grinned but didn’t answer. She tilted her head and leaned forward again, and this time Cara met her halfway. A warm tingle started in the pit of Kahlan’s stomach when she felt Cara’s lips move over her own. It was hesitant, but Cara was kissing her again. She brought one hand up and ran it lazily through the ends of Cara’s hair, before pulling away. “I’ve wanted to do that for the past three weeks,” she explained quietly. “Not with Richard. With you.” She dropped her forehead against Cara’s.

Cara chewed her lip nervously. “Richard’s safe,” she pointed out.

“I know.” Kahlan laughed dryly. “Believe me, I know. Everything is easy and out in the open. And a little bit boring.”

“I’m not good at this,” Cara said warningly. “I’ve _never_ done this. Any of it. Ever.”

“Are you trying to scare me away?”

“No. I don’t know. It sounds like something I’d try,” Cara admitted.

“So if I tell you it’s going to take a lot more than that to scare me away…does that make you feel cornered?”

Cara lifted her head, considering. Her fingers were making absentminded circles across Kahlan’s lower back. “I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Kahlan gave Cara another brief kiss—Spirits, how had she lived without doing that for the past three weeks? “I’m not marrying Richard,” she blurted. “I just wanted to get that out there. Just in case you still had doubts. And I’m going to tell him. Just as soon as we…you know. Save the world.”

“Okay,” Cara whispered. She flashed Kahlan a small grin, then bent her head and nuzzled Kahlan’s neck, just below her right ear.

Kahlan wrapped both arms around Cara’s neck, her face suddenly hot and her knees weak. “Okay,” Kahlan repeated. She heard the quaver in her own voice, and Cara must have heard it too, because she laughed softly before gently biting down on Kahlan’s earlobe. Kahlan tightened her hold on Cara’s neck. “Do not start something you can’t finish,” she warned weakly.

“What if I _can_ finish it?” Cara drawled, her lips brushing against the underside of Kahlan’s jaw as she spoke.

Kahlan grinned. “Then by all means…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback request: I've been throwing around the idea of turning this into a series where Volume I would end with Chapter 30 and the conclusion of the Stone of Tears story, and Volume II would pick up pretty much right after that and deal with a new big bad/the fallout from Volume I. (In my head they've started to feel like seasons of a television show.) Or I could just keep trucking and jump into Chapter 31; it's totally reader preference. Let me know, and thanks again for reading! :)


	30. And the Air is New

“Cara, no.” Zedd shook his head. “I told you. Not a crow.”

Cara glared at Zedd. If it weren’t for the crow she’d managed to snare wrapped in her arms she would have flashed him a rude hand gesture. “And I told _you_ , beggars can’t be choosers.”

Zedd shuddered, eyeing the crow with distaste.

“This was your idea,” Cara reminded him. “And, as you so cheerily pointed out, we don’t have time for much else. So…” She nodded towards the crow. “Get in.”

Zedd swore. He lowered himself to a cross-legged position then held his hands out for the crow. It was panting. It seemed resigned to the fact that it couldn’t get away and cawed angrily when Zedd slid his hands along its sleek black wings. When Cara pulled her hands away it did it’s best to dislodge Zedd’s grip by twisting and nipping at his hands. Zedd swore again.

“Don’t you dare let it go,” Cara said threateningly.

“I have it, I have it,” Zedd groused. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, and a moment later the crow seemed to slip into a daze. It’s head dropped forward placidly, it shuddered once, then Zedd’s chin dropped to his chest and the crow wriggled free as his arms went slack. It hopped across the ground, shaking out it’s feathers and twisting its neck this way and that, as if it were trying to work out a kink.

“Do you need a boost?” Cara asked.

The crow tilted its head, staring up at her with piercing black eyes. “No,” it said. Zedd’s voice sharp and gravelly and oddly aggressive sounding coming from the crow. He took a few hops, then launched himself into the air, struggling to lift his large body above the tops of the trees as he flew towards the Pillars of Creation. He was convinced he could find some way past the rift, some shortcut that would take more time than they had to spare to find on foot. If he failed to find anything their next option was launching Richard over the rift—a plan no one had much confidence in, though Cara was somewhat curious to see it happen. Maybe if the stakes weren’t quite so high.

Cara sat, kicking her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles, trying to fool her body into relaxing. She was tense, ready for the fight they all knew was coming and yet had no idea what form it would take. Darken Rahl was a possibility, as were the Sisters of the Dark or banelings. Or perhaps the Keeper himself would make an appearance, and if that happened Cara didn’t think they stood a chance. Zedd and Richard and Kahlan were walking around with an optimism bordering on insanity. They seemed to be of the mindset that positivity was half the battle; if they believed they could win— _would_ win—then somehow, magically, the odds swung in their favor. _Stupid, stupid_ —Cara pressed her fist into her thigh to keep her leg from bouncing. A nervous tic, the traitorous part of her brain whispered, and Cara went through the mental exercise of beating it back into the shadows.

She was not confident in their odds of success. Not at all. But the thought of failing was gut wrenchingly unacceptable. It was the finality of it all—if they lost, the world was over. There were no second chances and there was no Plan B. There was one small blue stone and one altar to put it on and a scant few moments when the sun was at its apex in which to save the world. Once upon a time, she would have relished the challenge and not cared one way of another if she made it out or if the world kept spinning. It would have been a bit of morbid fun because the world did not exist outside of Cara herself. It started and ended with her, and if she was not there to experience it then what was the point? It scared her, just how untrue that was now. Failing meant no more Zedd, no more Richard.

No more Kahlan.

And that…that was not acceptable. And the fact that it wasn’t acceptable…that was terrifying.

She’d never thought too seriously about self-sacrifice before; she’d left that to Richard. He was good at it—seemed to revel in it, even. But she knew, deep down, deeper than the twisting knot of anxiety in her stomach, that if push came to shove she’d do whatever she had to in order to save…well, any one of them, really. It was impossible to imagine life without one of them gone, and as a result easier to imagine herself being the expendable one. Kahlan would hate her if she knew. Cara’s mouth twisted in a dark smile at the thought. After all those speeches about being selfless and doing things for others _just because_ , she was fairly confident the other three didn’t expect that mentality to be returned in kind towards themselves. No: _they_ were the sacrificers.

Cara took a deep breath and pressed her fingertips into her forehead, trying to chase away the dark thoughts. If she was going to go into battle thinking she was going to die, she might as well slit her own wrists. Save herself the trouble of getting sweaty.

She heard Richard approaching from behind, his steps heavy as he plodded towards her. “Is Zedd here, or…?

Cara gestured toward Zedd’s slumped form by way of answer.

Richard dropped down next to Cara and wrapped his arms around his knees, studying Zedd thoughtfully. “It’s weird that this is normal.”

Cara nodded noncommittally. Silence fell between them.

“Are you ready for this?” Richard asked after a moment. He sounded tired and cautious. Cara glanced at him quickly out the corner of her eye.

“Of course.” A little false bravado never hurt, and Richard sounded like he needed it just as much as Cara herself.

“Are you scared?”

Cara shrugged. Fear was different for her that it was for other people. Her Mord-Sith training had warped fear into something dark and raging and demanding of action. She was not scared of the fight. She was scared of what came after, of the not knowing.

“I am,” Richard said.

“You can use it to your advantage,” Cara said. “Twist it, sharpen it, turn it outwards…” she trailed off as the memory of that particular lesson came back to her: she was chained, hanging from her wrists, her shoulders screaming as Darken Rahl trailed a long cool finger across her bruised and naked ribs. He’d told her about fear and how useless an emotion it was; now she was quoting that very lesson to his younger brother.

Richard didn’t seem to notice that she’d left the thought unfinished. He nodded, staring into space, his lips twisted thoughtfully. “Cara…I have a favor to ask.”

Cara waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, she sighed. “What is it?”

“I know I asked you before, but…” Richard rubbed his chin, his scruffy beard scratching against his hand. “Just…watch out for Kahlan for me, will you?”

“If you’re asking me to _guard_ her, she’ll stab me in the hand before she lets me keep her from a fight.”

“No, no.” Richard shook his head slowly. “Not keep her away. That’s not what I meant. I meant…if I…you know…” He gestured vaguely.

“Die?” Cara prompted.

“Yeah.” Richard chuckled hollowly. “That.” He leaned back, balancing himself on his hands. “If I don’t make it, I need you to take care of Kahlan for me. And Zedd,” he amended after a moment.

She did not want to talk about this. “Fine.”

“I know them. They’ll feel guilty,” Richard continued. “They’ll stand still, and I want them to keep moving. _You_ need to make sure they keep moving.”

“Right. Fine.”

“Because if you let them—“

“Richard,” Cara interrupted brusquely, “I understand. Don’t let them wallow. Now, if I can make a suggestion?” She took Richard’s silence as an affirmative. “Stop assuming you’re going to die.” Cara drew her legs up. “Makes you sloppy,” she muttered.

“You’re right.” Richard took a deep breath. “You’re right,” he repeated. “Listen, Cara, for what it’s worth, I’m glad—”

Zedd snorted and jerked, startling them both and saving Cara from whatever Richard had on his mind. Zedd blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes.

“Did you find anything?” Richard asked urgently.

“A little strip of rock, like a bridge across the rift.” Zedd groaned as he pushed himself to his feet. His knees cracked. “To the North.”

Cara and Richard stood as well. “We go now,” Richard said decisively. “I’ll tell Kahlan.” He turned and jogged back toward the farmhouse.

“A bridge across the rift,” Cara repeated. “Well. That doesn’t sound like a trap.”

Zedd sighed. “No,” he agreed grimly. “Not at all.” 

* * *

 

Calling it a bridge, they discovered, was being generous. What Zedd had seen from the sky was little more than a thin strip of ground barely wider than Cara’s foot. It looked completely untrustworthy—not only because it was the single solitary patch of land not blasted away by the rift’s opening, but also because it looked to have been severely eroded by the green flames reaching up from the Underworld. The center looked thin enough to crumble the moment even the slightest pressure was applied, and Cara said so.

Richard shrugged and dropped his pack. “I’m going first,” he announced determinedly.

“Richard,” Zed began warningly, “if that breaks—”

“Then it breaks,” Richard interrupted, waving him off. “It’ll either break for me or it’ll break for one of you. Either way I’m going first.”

Zedd sighed heavily then nodded his acquiescence. Richard cast him a tight-lipped smile and then reached for Kahlan. He squeezed her hand and she jerked, surprised. She’d been staring across the rift, lost in concentration, and she smiled at Richard distractedly. He swung their hands, then he stepped to the edge of the small bridge, letting Kahlan’s hand trail out of his own. He took a deep breath—“Be quick,” Cara muttered, and Richard nodded. He mouthed something to himself, leaned forward, leaned back again, then burst forward. Cara heard Kahlan inhale sharply—her own breath was caught in her throat, waiting for the bridge to crumble, for Richard to fall—

Richard threw himself forward, landing ungracefully—but safely—on his stomach on the opposite side of the rift. He scrambled to his knees and turned to face them. A fine layer of sand clung to his chest and thighs. He grinned broadly, delighted with his success. “Next!”

Cara nodded at Kahlan. “You.”

Kahlan hesitated, her eyes flicking past the bridge to the chasm beneath. She took a slow step forward. “We need a rope or something. Why didn’t anybody think of a rope?”

“Afraid of heights?” Cara asked.

“Afraid of falling,” Kahlan amended.

“I’ll catch you.”

“Promise?”

Cara opened her mouth. _Of course_ was on the tip of her tongue when Richard shouted—an unintelligible warning cry that put them all on guard. His sword was drawn, pointed at a shifting, swirling mass of black.

“Zedd?” Kahlan asked, her voice tight.

“I don’t know—”

With a snap, the black scattered and Darken Rahl strode forward, his robes whipping as if he’d stepped into a windstorm.

“Cara!” Zedd shouted, but Cara was already moving, sprinting across the bridge. Rahl saw her coming. He smiled slowly and raised his hands unthreateningly, mockingly. Cara skidded to a stop next to Richard, her remaining agiel ready in her hand. Rahl’s smile broadened, but he made no move to attack.

“Quite the greeting,” Rahl drawled. He nodded towards the bridge. “You’re welcome for that, by the way.”

At the sound of his voice, Cara felt her skin crawl. She straightened unconsciously, years of training demanding that she stand at attention in Darken Rahl’s presence. His oily blue eyes slipped over her possessively. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and she knew he could see the effect his presence was having on her. Cara gripped her agiel tighter and shifted her weight onto her toes.

“I must say, your leathers have seen better days, Cara,” Rahl said, “though you’re looking as well as ever. Life serving my little brother must agree with you.”

“Stop.” Richard extended his arm and tilted his sword so that it was level with the indent of Darken Rahl’s throat. Rahl glanced at it and raised one eyebrow, unconcerned. “If the Keeper sent you to stop us, he should have done his research. We defeated you once and we can do it again.”

“Well, yes, that is why he sent me. Though whether I follow through…that’s up for negotitaion.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Richard, don’t listen to him!” Zedd shouted. He had crossed the bridge and had one long arm extended for Kahlan to latch onto once she was close enough to do so. She was just stepping onto the thin bridge—Cara forced her eyes back to Rahl. Watching Kahlan cross made her lightheaded.

“Yes, by all means.” Rahl swept his arms patronizingly. “Don’t listen to me. Ignore the man who’s had the ear of the Keeper for these past months. Creator knows I’d have nothing valuable to contribute.”

“You made a deal with the Keeper,” Cara snapped, “and you expect us to listen to you? How stupid do you think we are?”

Rahl turned to her, his expression slipping from passive boredom to deadly fury in the blink of an eye. “If anyone should know how flexible loyalty can be,” he seethed, the tendons in his neck jutting out thick as fingers, “it should be you, Cara. That bridge you just crossed over?” Rahl pointed. “I made that special, just for all of you. The next nearest pass is a day’s climb away.” He leaned back, his face smoothing to a self-satisfied smirk. “You’re welcome.”

“There’s no reason for you to betray the Keeper,” Richard pointed out.

Rahl lifted an eyebrow. Slowly, he brought his hand up to the point of Richard’s sword. He pressed his thumb against it; a small bubble of blood squeezed forth and trickled down his palm. “On the contrary.”

“You’re human,” Richard said.

“Funny thing about magic…” Rahl casually inspected his sliced thumb. He rubbed his index finger and thumb together, smearing his blood across the pad of both fingers. “You can’t use it if you’re dead.”

“The Keeper brought you back to life?” Zedd demanded.

“Of course. I’m a very persuasive man.” Rahl spread his arms, smiling at the four of them collectively. “And now I find myself in the deliciously ironic position of hoping you all succeed in banishing the Keeper back into the Underworld.”

“Why?” Richard asked sharply, “You’re friends with the Keeper, I’m sure he’s promised you something good for helping him.”

“I’m sure he thinks it’s a favorable deal, but no. When I was alive, I was a lord. I controlled a kingdom. After power like that…second in command just doesn’t hold the same appeal. You have no idea how demeaning it is to always answer to someone other than yourself. Well…” Rahl paused and glanced at Cara, his white teeth flashing viciously. “Except for you.”

Cara lifted her chin defiantly. Behind her, she felt Kahlan press closer.

“You want us to make it to the Pillars,” Kahlan said shortly.

“I do.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, Confessor.”

Kahlan snorted. “There’s always a catch.”

Rahl tilted his head thoughtfully. “Not a catch, per se. Rather, a deal.” He paused, studying them each in turn. “In exchange for my help, you let me return to the throne of D’Hara.”

“Not a chance,” Richard said quickly.

Rahl laughed. “Be reasonable!” He gestured behind him, towards the columns of the Pillars rising above a rocky outcropping. “There are all sorts of unpleasant things waiting for you over that ridge; another wizard would only increase your odds. And all I ask for my not inconsiderable help is that you let me go back to doing what I was born to do.”

“You’re a murderer,” Richard said angrily.

Rahl’s upper lip curled with contempt. “Don’t fool yourself, little brother: I’ve met the men you’ve sent to the Keeper. You’re carrying on the Rahl legacy spectacularly.”

“Those men—”

“A death is a death, regardless of why it happens,” Rahl snapped. “ Consider the positives. You don’t have to rule a kingdom you don’t want. You get to ride off to Aydindril and marry your little Confessor. And D’Hara will have a Rahl on the throne, as it was always meant to.”

Richard shook his head. “No.”

Rahl sighed dramatically. “Then I have no reason to not call for the Keeper right now. If I can’t have my kingdom, then there’s no sense in betraying him. Perhaps he’ll humor me and give me your soul to torture for eternity.”

The Sword of Truth wavered in Richard’s grip. “Zedd—”

“Decide!” Rahl roared. He slapped the sword away from his neck viciously. “You are the son of Panis Rahl; you are not some mewling infant who cannot make decisions for himself. Your choice is to live or to die, to save the world or to let it burn, and you are running out of time.”

“I won’t put you back on the throne.”

“Circles, Richard.” Rahl spun his index finger in a whirling motion. “We’re going in circles. You don’t want it, I do. I suppose you could always appoint someone to rule in your stead, but how does that saying go? The devil you know?”

 “Richard,” Zedd started quietly, but Richard set his shoulders.

“Yes. Fine.”

Zedd let out a despairing hiss, but from Cara’s vantage point, there was only one way this conversation was going to end. Rahl had them backed into a corner, and Richard had come to the only logical conclusion: save the world.

“This is your second chance—your only chance,” Richard seethed. He was clearly upset with the way things had gone. “I swear, if things go back to the way they were, I’ll kill you again. And this time, you’ll stay dead.”

Rahl placed his right hand over his chest. “I solemnly swear,” he said, his smile mocking. “I must say, your dedication to duty is admirable.”

“Maybe you should take notes,” Richard snapped.

“Of course. I fully intend to follow your lead.” Rahl stepped to the side, spreading his arm invitingly in a _lead on_ gesture.

“Zedd.” Richard jerked his chin, silently instructing Zedd to take the lead. Zedd stepped past Rahl suspiciously, and Richard grabbed Cara’s arm. “Don’t take your eyes off of him,” he muttered, bending his moth close to her ear.

“He’s going to try to kill you just as soon as you close the rift,” Cara whispered back. Richard’s head jerked slightly with surprise. He looked completely confused, which Cara could not comprehend. Did he really think Rahl was going to leave a potential challenger to the throne alive?

After a moment Richard’s eyes cleared with understanding. “Well then…let’s not give him that chance.”

Cara slipped around him, positioning herself between Richard and Kahlan and Rahl. They walked in silence for a few minutes, Rahl strolling casually, apparently delighting in the tension he was generating between the rest of them.

“Your best chance is to take and hold that ridge,” Rahl said. He pointed at the rocks semi obscuring the Pillars. “Easier to defend than trying to hold them off down here.”

“Hold who off?” Cara demanded.

Rahl turned. A sadistic smile split his face as he looked over Cara’s shoulder. “Them.”

Cara turned at the same time Richard swore. Banelings were crawling over the lip of the rift behind them, green smoke wafting maliciously from their dead skin. As they watched, the banelings staggered to their feet and broke into a loping run, another wave of undead right on their heels.

“Run,” Richard breathed.

Cara shoved Richard and Kahlan in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d run in a full out sprint; it felt like her thighs were tight, like she couldn’t get her knees up high enough. She skidded to a stop when she blew past Zedd—“Go!” he shouted at her. He threw several small balls of spiraling wizard’s fire at the horde of banelings running after them, catching a handful on fire. Cara didn’t move. She wasn’t about to leave their best baneling killer behind to be overwhelmed.

“Bags, Cara!” Zedd shouted crossly. He turned, holding his robes above his ankles as he broke into a loping run. It was far from a sprint, but he moved faster than Cara would have ever given him credit for. Every few steps he threw another ball of fire over his shoulder, never once bothering to take aim—though from the angry screams that accompanied each fireball, Cara was beginning to think aiming might be overrated.

There was a small footpath cut into the rocky ridge surrounding the Pillars of Creation, almost invisible under the shadow of the boulders overhead. Rahl had led the way and now he stood at the entrance, his hands aflame and his eyes bright with impending violence.

“We can hold them here,” he said calmly, eyeing the mass of banelings scuttling across the plain. “Go, Seeker. Tend to your stone.”

Richard drew his sword in protest. “I’m not leaving—”

“Go!” Zedd shouted. He brought both hands together over his head and hurled another mass of fire forward, using both arms to launch it as far as he possibly could. Cara’s throat was tight. The battle had sprung upon them; she’d had no time to prepare, and now the battle was closing in fast.

“Shall I keep them from going up an over?” Rahl suggested mildly. He disappeared with a snap of black smoke before anyone had a chance to answer. He appeared again a moment later, standing above them on the ridge, his robes whipping around his body. He lobbed a fireball from each hand into the horde advancing on them.

“Still on our side, then,” Zedd muttered.

Cara drew her agiel.

“Cara, no—Richard! Make Richard go!” Zedd shouted.

“Can’t stop them all yourself, Zedd,” Cara said grimly. He was already struggling to keep up with the sheer number of banelings barreling through the smoking corpses. In another moment or two they’d be on him, in his face, and there was no way he’d be able to stop them then.

“Cara!” Kahlan called, and Cara allowed herself one glance, one quick look over her shoulder. Kahlan had one hand on Richard’s shoulder, the other fisted in the hem of his shirt, tugging him down the path toward the Pillars. She was pulling him away, her face twisted with frustration. She wanted to stay and fight—Cara could see that clear as day. But that was the good thing about Kahlan, Cara thought to herself, flashing Kahlan a tight smile before she turned back to the charging banelings. Kahlan could ignore what she wanted and focus on the big picture. Whoever wrote the cardinal laws knew what they were doing when they tasked the Confessors with accompanying the Seeker on his mission.

“Zedd,” Cara said as she strode forward, positioning herself between Zedd and the charging banelings, “it’s been fun.”

“It certainly has,” Zedd agreed.

Cara spun her agiel in her hand. It was buzzing lightly, the adrenaline coursing through her blood muting the pain. “Right,” she drawled lazily. A stream of fire blew over her right shoulder, ruffling her hair and leaving her open to focus on the left side of the path. “Who’s first?”

A male baneling, broad as an ox and just as fast, roared up the path. He threw a wild punch and Cara caught his arm easily. She pivoted and used his momentum to hurl him against the oppsite wall, straight into Zedd’s stream of fire. Elegant fighting was a luxury, though—the next baneling was already on her, screaming and slashing with long fingernails. Cara sidestepped and kicked, driving her heel into the side of the banelings knee, snapping her leg with a crack while at the same time striking out with her agiel, smashing another baneling in the face. If she could keep moving, if she could keep breaking things—if she wasn’t kicking them she was punching, cracking her agiel against their undead bones. She couldn’t kill them but she could break them, break their legs, their necks—make it impossible for them to run past her. Her ears were ringing with their screams of rage—some of them were crying, and she wondered what the Keeper had promised them if they stopped Richard.

A baneling caught her by the collar as she hurled him into the rock wall, spinning her around. She drove her elbow into his upper arm, snapping it, and he released her. She turned—another baneling was bearing down on her. She saw a flash of metal and for a moment her brain was confused—they were armed?—but her body was not. She brought her right arm up crosswise, protecting her neck, and the baneling drove a hunting knife through her forearm with a quiet _schunk_ that she felt more than she heard. She inhaled sharply—shocked but not hurt, not yet—and wrapped her left arm around his neck, curling her fingers around his jaw and snapping his neck with a quick jerk.

She stumbled back, her hand going to the hilt of the knife. She could not feel her agiel in her hand and until she looked and saw it still clenched in her fist. She started to pull and another baneling barreled into her, driving her to the ground. Cara thrashed—she heard Zedd scream her name but her arms were trapped between her chest and the banelings. She brought her head up, trying to smash it in the face with her forehead, and it bit her neck. Cara screamed. Another baneling jumped on top of her, driving the air from her lungs, then another, and another. Sharp fingers clawed at her face, trying to find her eyes, and she twisted her head, trying to bite them. Something sharp—another knife, she was sure, scraped across her thigh. Panic made her vision narrow. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t get free—

A white-yellow light flashed in her face. She couldn’t breathe, but not because of the pressure across her lungs. There was literally no air—she gasped and nothing tickled her throat. The banelings were screaming now, their weight still pressing into her but they’d stopped grabbing and stabbing. A hand seized her by the collar and dragged her backwards. Cara kicked; the banelings fell away, writhing as they burned. Zedd hauled her to her feet and immediately set a wall of fire between them and the banelings with an upward swipe of his arm.

“Are you alright?” he shouted. He was panting, his blue eyes feverish. He was drenched in sweat and his hands shook as he maintained the wall of fire.

Cara hunched and pulled the knife from her arm with a hiss. Her fingers straightened involuntarily as she did so; she tried to curl them into a fist and managed only a slight bend in her knuckles.

Left handed, then. That would be interesting.

“I’m fine,” she answered tersely. She wiped the blade on her leg, smearing her blood away. “Please don’t set me on fire again.” She picked up her agiel.

“I can’t keep this up for long,” Zedd warned her. She hoped he was referring to the wall.

Cara set her shoulders. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” She reached over and tucked the hunting knife into Zedd’s belt. “Just in case,” she said, breathing hard, and he nodded.

“Ready?”

Cara lifted her chin in answer. She could feel blood trickling down her face and leg, cooling as it hit the air. The corner of her right eyebrow burned as sweat trickled into a shallow cut.

“Three,” Zedd gritted, “two…one—” 

* * *

 

Kahlan felt sick. Richard was running easily next to her—he’d stopped trying to pull away to stop and look behind, but she still had a firm grip on his shirt. The contact served to pull her along the path, forced her to keep moving forward and not turn and run back to fight the banelings back with Cara and Zedd. And Rahl, she supposed, though how long that was going to last was anyone’s guess. _It should be Cara with Richard_ , she thought to herself. She could at least fight Rahl off if he decided to make sure he was the only available son of Panis Rahl in D’Hara—all Kahlan could do was Confess him, and she definitely didn’t want the responsibility of being the puppet master behind the D’Haran throne.

The path narrowed—Richard ducked and turned sideways to slip past the rocks, his hand slipping easily into Kahlan’s to help her through. She turned her head to keep her nose from smashing against the rough stone and exhaled, wiggling her way through the tight crevice.

“It’s here,” Richard breathed. “We’re here.” His hand fell from Kahlan’s.

Kahlan turned as she pulled her leg through. Six white grey columns were arranged in a circle, capped by pairs by a long rectangular piece of stone. Ornate filigree adorned the pedestals. A swath of brilliant green grass grew in the circle created by the columns, so fresh and bright it almost didn’t look real. In the very center sat a simple, pure white rock.

“We did it.” Richard looked at her. A stunned smile slowly spread across his face. He took Kahlan’s hand again as they moved toward the Pillars. The columns were inhumanely tall, made of solid stone, not segmented the way most human made columns were. Kahlan felt an exhilarating rush of ease rush through her as they approached. She pulled back at the perimeter.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed in,” she said.

Richard looked like he was about to protest, but he nodded instead. He unbuckled the Sword of Truth and handed it to Kahlan, then pulled the Stone of Tears from his pocket. “Wish me luck,” he said. He took a half step onto the grass, stopped, turned, and pulled Kahlan into a rough kiss. She’d half expected it, but still, when his rough beard scratched the skin above her lip she very nearly pushed him away. If Richard noticed her reluctance it didn’t show when he pulled back. He was grinning, trembling with exhilaration. “Be right back,” he said. He cupped Kahlan’s face tenderly for a moment before stepping determinedly into the midst of the Pillars.

Nothing happened. Kahlan had been expecting…she didn’t know what, exactly. Maybe for the ground to shake, maybe for some sort of explosion of light once the Stone crossed the plane. Certainly not _nothing_.

Richard did not seem particularly concerned, however. He strode forward confidently, heading straight for the white stone in the center. He paused, and Kahlan could see his fingers moving as he rolled the Stone in his hand. He reached out, hesitated, then quickly placed the Stone in the center of the small altar. Kahlan held her breath. For a moment, nothing happened. Nothing she could see or feel, at least. Then there was a brief flash of light, like the stone had caught a ray of sunlight, and a solid, low note filled the air, resonating in Kahlan’s chest. Her ears popped and a moment later a wave of white-blue light rushed outward like a ripple. It passed over and through her before she had a chance to do more than blink, ruffling her hair and leaving her cheeks with a feeling very similar to windburn.

Kahlan took a breath and pressed her hands together, trying to stop their trembling. Her palms were sweating. She wanted to ask Richard if that was it, if they’d done it, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to break the spell of silence that had followed the swell of light. She felt the sudden imposing heat of someone standing just behind her—she started to turn when a cool hand touched her left temple. Heaviness filled her limbs, like wet sand being funneled into her muscles. She tried to lift her right arm, tried reach back to grab whoever held her prisoner, but the very thought left her exhausted. She felt someone’s breath on her neck, then the breath was in her ear, whispering words she didn’t understand. Her vision tunneled. Her head was fuzzy, hot, hard to hold up, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the silky smooth voice in her ear, whispering soothingly, lulling her towards sleep, and then—

She was wide-awake and the world was charred and smoking around her. The Pillars were broken, their jagged remains stained with soot. Zedd was propped against a fallen pedestal his long legs splayed, his hands palm up and limp in his lap. His head was tipped back in a way that was obviously not comfortable and Kahlan knew he was dead. She stumbled and caught herself against the closest broken pillar, a strangled sob erupting from her chest. Her legs were trembling. They’d won—they had to have won. She’d seen Richard put the Stone on the altar—

She turned, searching for the altar and any air she’d managed to force into her lungs rushed out with a _whoosh_. Cara was lying face up next to the altar, her green eyes open and staring and blank. Blood stained the corner of her mouth and matted her hair.

“No,” Kahlan whispered brokenly. There was a sudden aching emptiness in her, a physical pain that felt like a mortal wound. “No, no, no…”

A sharp whistle pierced the air. “This one too, Confessor.” Rahl materialized from the smoke, the Sword of Truth in his hands. He was dragging Richard forward by the collar of his shirt, and with a smooth sidearm motion he whipped Richard onto the ground.

“No,” Kahlan sobbed, “please, don’t—”

Rahl winked at her and raised the sword.

“Don’t— _DON’T_ ” Kahlan screamed. She shoved herself away from the pillar. Something black and dangerous was pinching her vision, making her eyes hot. Her hands were burning. She wasn’t in control anymore and it felt good, it felt right—she could feel Rahl’s throat under her hand, could feel the pulse fluttering under his skin and that was _her_ pulse to do what she wanted with—

He shuddered as her magic poured into him. He dropped the sword and his head snapped back. “Kahlan,” he choked out, and she snarled at him. Kill her friends, kill the people she loved—she’d rip his spine out, maybe even make him do it himself—

“Kahlan, it’s me…it’s Richard…”

There was a flicker, a brief flash of two things that didn’t make sense, of Richard and green grass and her hand wrapped around his throat and then blackness and Rahl. An intense feeling of _wrong_ worked its way into the back of her brain. She blinked—the anger was still there but it was less certain, less pointed. Things in the corner of her eyes were shimmering and blurring and in a flash she remembered the hand on her head, the whispers. She blinked again and it was Richard, not Rahl, who was kneeling at her feet, his eyes fixed on her expectantly.

“Oh—” Kahlan dropped her hand, horrified, and took a step back. “Oh, Creator, no—”

She stumbled and fell to her knees. Confessed. She’d confessed Richard. She gagged, dry heaving, sick to her stomach at the thought. She heard Richard crawl across the grass. He placed a gentle hand on her back and Kahlan dropped her head to the ground, sobbing.

“It’s okay,” Richard said. “Kahlan, it’s okay…”

She shook her head, her breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, unable to speak; unable to utter the first of many words Richard would hang onto like his life depended on it—

“Yes, it is,” Richard insisted. “Kahlan, I’m fine.” He laughed quietly and rubbed her back. “It didn’t work. I’m not confessed.”

Kahlan froze. She turned her head slowly. Common sense told her not to get her hopes up. She’d felt her magic go into Richard, and confession was always successful.

Richard smiled back at her reassuringly. “I promise.” He leaned forward, kissing her lightly on one tear soaked cheek. “Tell me to do something. I’ll prove it.”

“Stand up,” Kahlan said quietly, barely daring to hope.

Richard didn’t move. “No,” he said, and Kahlan burst into tears again. She didn’t know how it was possible but he was very certainly not confessed and the relief was overwhelming. Richard gathered her into his arms, rocking her gently and running a hand through her hair. Kahlan clung to him; she felt physically and emotionally drained. In the span of ten minutes she’d gone from thinking they’d saved the world to seeing all of her friends dead to thinking she’d confessed a man she’d sworn to never subject to that fate.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. I thought you were—I saw Rahl, and everything was broken and I thought—”

“I saw him,” Richard said. He proceeded to pepper Kahlan’s neck and cheek with kisses.

She pushed away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said. “You should be…I should have confessed you. I definitely…” she trailed off, remembering how it had felt to hold his neck in her hand, how desperately she’d wanted to make him bend to her will.

“We’ll have to ask Zedd why I’m not,” Richard said, and Kahlan shot to her feet.

“Creator,” she gasped, “Cara and Zedd!”

She pulled Richard to his feet and together they raced back down the path. It was eerily silent as they neared the entrance, and the picture Rahl had provided of a dead Zedd and Cara plagued Kahlan as they ran. Her heart was in her throat—they were fine—

Unless Rahl had gone after them before he’d turned his sights on Kahlan and Richard and that was where he'd gotten material for her vision—

She quickly quashed the thought. They were both fine. Anything else was unacceptable.

* * *

 

“Cara! Zedd!”

Kahlan’s frantic shout drew Cara from her dazed staring. She lifted her head, resting it against the stone at her back, then nudged Zedd’s leg with her foot. “They did it,” she croaked.

Zedd made a noise and didn’t open his eyes. Cara couldn’t blame him. They were both exhausted. The ashy combustion of the banelings hadn’t come a moment too soon. Zedd had been reduced to lighting his hands aflame and grabbing whatever he could, his energy sapped, and Cara’s left arm, forced to do the majority of the hacking and breaking, had been trembling with fatigue when the flash of light had knocked them off their feet and destroyed the banelings pouring over the plain. It had taken the last of her energy to crawl to Zedd and roll herself into a sitting position. For his part, he hadn’t moved since he’d patted her knee, obviously relieved the fight was over and they had both managed to escape, if not unscathed, then at least with their lives.

Cara lifted her good arm and flapped her hand, drawing Kahlan and Richard’s attention as the rounded the corner.

“You’re alive!” Richard cried.

“We certainly are,” Zedd mumbled. He lifted his head and squinted as Richard and Kahlan approached. “They look like they had an easy time of it.”

Cara nodded. Physically Richard and Kahlan looked no different than they had when they’d separated. She had serious doubts about their mental states, however. Kahlan in particular looked pale and drawn. There were dark circles under her eyes that Cara knew hadn’t been there earlier, and she was positive Kahlan had been crying.

“Good job you closed the rift when you did,” Cara said, trying for casual as Richard and Kahlan knelt next to her and Richard crouched next to Zedd.

“You’re hurt,” Kahlan said quietly. She touched Cara’s chin gently.

“A bit,” Cara agreed. She was too tired to deny it and her arm was positively throbbing. She’d bet her life that the knife had hit bone, and she probably hadn’t done herself any favors pulling it back out so carelessly.

“We should get the packs,” Kahlan said, raising her voice to include Richard but still very much engrossed in examining the scratches and cuts littering Cara’s face. It was a testament to her leathers’ camouflaging ability that Kahlan didn’t notice any of the other things—Cara was loathe to think of them as the more serious things because they all hurt and that generally meant they weren’t going to kill her.

Richard nodded his agreement. He shook Zedd gently. “Glad to see you’re still in one piece, Old Man. You too, Cara.”

Zedd uttered an obligatory chuckle.

“We’ll be right back,” Kahlan promised. Her hand lingered on Cara’s shoulder as she stood. There was a look of utter concentration on her face, like she was trying to burn the image of Cara in her mind and Cara knew that even if Richard and Kahlan were walking and talking, _something_ had gone wrong.

They left, walking quickly toward the newly healed strip of land that had once been the rift.

“Where’d Rahl go?” Zedd murmured.

Cara shrugged. “D’Hara, probably.”

Zedd sighed. “Should we do something about that?”

“Mm.” Cara closed her eyes. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Zedd agreed. “I’m sorry I can’t fix your arm.”

“S’fine.”

“Maybe later. After I’ve slept.”

“Mm.”

Something hard closed around her shoulder and Cara snapped awake.

“Whoa.” Kahlan pushed her back. “Sorry.”

Cara blinked up at her. “You’re back already?”

“I don’t know about ‘already’, but we’re back.” She held a water skin out. “Here. Drink.”

“You fell asleep,” Zedd said helpfully around a mouthful of bread. He sounded a good deal more alert already. Richard was unloading every bit of food he could find in his pack onto Zedd’s lap, and Zedd was shoveling it into his mouth indiscriminately.

Cara fumbled with the water skin, trying to maneuver removing the cap one handed.

“What’s wrong with your arm?” Kahlan asked.

“Nuf,” Zedd mumbled. Crumbs spewed from his mouth.

“Swallow,” Cara grumped. She lifted her arm from her lap as far as possible before the pain spiked. “Knife,” she said.

Kahlan said nothing. She took the water skin and held it to Cara’s mouth for her, squeezing it gently as Cara drank. When she’d finished, Kahlan squirted some water on a clean cloth. “These first,” she said, touching the cloth gingerly against to Cara’s left eyebrow. Kahlan winced. “Does it sting?”

“The sweat stings. Water is fine.”

“You look like you stuck your face in a cage with a feral cat,” Richard said sympathetically. He held out a slice of apple. “Hungry?”

“Not right now.”

Zedd plucked the fruit from Richard’s hand and made a keep-it-coming gesture.

“Where’s Rahl?” Cara asked. Kahlan stiffened. Richard glanced at her.

“We don’t know,” he admitted. “He showed up after we closed the rift—”

“Did he try to kill you?” Zedd asked.

Richard hesitated. He was still looking at Kahlan, and Kahlan was very purposefully not looking back. Her jaw was clenched, and there was a jerky quality to the gentle swipes she was making against Cara’s cheek.

“He did,” Richard said slowly. “I mean…kind of.”

“What does that mean?” Zedd demanded.

“I confessed Richard,” Kahlan said abruptly. She turned her attention to re-soaking the cloth, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Zedd inhaled sharply, but Cara was too confused to have any reaction. Kahlan would never confess Richard. Not on purpose. And even if she had done it, he certainly wasn’t acting confessed.

“I’m not confessed, though,” Richard explained, which explained nothing, in Cara’s opinion.

“No, but still,” Kahlan said quietly. She blinked furiously. Cara touched her knee in what she hoped was a reassuring way.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Richard said, and Zedd snapped his fingers.

“Somebody. Please. Start from the beginning.”

Richard quickly did just that, apparently eager to give his version of events before Kahlan had a chance to deride herself any further.

Cara listened to him distractedly. She watched as Kahlan slowly began unlacing the right sleeve of Cara’s leathers, working from the wrist up. Horizontal lines marred her brow. She looked distraught and angry all at once, and Cara couldn’t understand why. Richard was fine, they were all alive, and the world was still turning. Cara’s sleeve loosened into a V around her forearm, the laces trailing loosely against her leg. Her skin was stained with blood, and there was a long, neat looking puncture wound just below her elbow. Kahlan made a quiet noise of sympathy.

“Both sides,” Cara said. “It went all the way through.”

“You need stitches.”

“No stitches. Clean and bandage it,” Zedd instructed. “I’ll heal it just as soon as I get my strength back. So.” He stretched his legs. “Rahl thinks a confessed Richard is safer than a dead Richard. It makes sense.”

“It makes no sense,” Cara muttered. “If he’s still alive, he could still try to take D’Hara.”

“He’s counting on the rest of us being too noble to put a confessed man on the throne. Which we would never do, so he’s got that bit right.”

“But killing Richard—”

“Would make the rest of us mad enough to try killing him again.” Zedd shook his head. “He does think of creative solutions, I’ll give him that.”

“But why didn’t it work?” Richard demanded. “Why aren’t I confessed? Was it the Pillars? “

“Maybe,” Zedd said. Cara saw him glance at Kahlan. “Or maybe…maybe it’s simply the nature of confession.”

Kahlan pressed the cloth against the wound on the inside of Cara’s arm.

“What does that mean?” Richard asked.

“The act of confession demands the subject be absolutely in love with the Confessor,” Zedd said slowly. “Perhaps…it wasn’t possible for you to love Kahlan any more than you do.”

“She can’t confess me?” Richard’s voice was quiet with incredulity.

“I’m hesitant to say absolutely no, she can’t, but…” Zedd shrugged. “It seems so.”

“It could have been anything,” Kahlan said, her voice clipped. “Plenty of Confessors have been in love before, and none of them—” she broke off and rocked back on her heels. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes and Cara knew she was doing her best to not burst into tears. “I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Kahlan said. “I want to eat, I want to find a bed to sleep in, and I don’t want to talk about this. Please.”

“Okay,” Richard said quietly.

“Thank you.” Kahlan sniffed. She reached into her pack and pulled out a rolled bandage. “Tell me if it’s too tight,” she said, her tone carefully business-like as she wrapped Cara’s arm.

“That’s fine.”

“Do you need a sling?”

“Probably.” Under normal circumstances she would say no whether she needed a sling or not. But she could tell that Kahlan was distracting herself from Zedd and Richard and what her inability to confess Richard meant by taking care of Cara, and she’d be a liar if she said she wasn’t enjoying the attention.

“Turing’s not far,” Zedd said after a moment of silence. “It should only take a few hours. Well…” He winced. “I should say normally. Normally it should take a few hours to travel there. I have a feeling I won’t be moving very quickly. We may not get there until just before nightfall.”

“We can wait until tomorrow,” Richard said.

Zed waved him off. “I agree with Kahlan. We won, and I want to sleep in a bed tonight.”

“Are you up for that?” Richard asked Cara. She nodded. She’d climb a mountain if it meant there’d be a bed waiting for her on the other side.

“Anything else need patching?” Kahlan asked.

“Nothing that can’t wait.”

“Cara—”

“I’m not taking my pants off,” Cara said. She held her hand out and Kahlan pulled her to her feet. “At least not here,” she muttered, pitching her voice low so that only Kahlan could hear her and trying to interject some levity into the situation. She wasn’t serious—not really—but the weak, forced smile Kahlan offered her was not reassuring. Something was wrong. Cara felt a flash of paranoia. _Don’t make it about you_ , she warned herself sternly, but doubt had already found a foothold.

Richard loved Kahlan, she’d always known that. But loved her enough to not be confessed? If that was actually what had happened, then of course Kahlan would be withdrawn. Richard truly loved her and Cara…

Even Cara didn’t know what she was feeling. Not really. All she knew was that she’d never felt it before, and when it came down to it, she knew that wasn’t good enough. If she were Kahlan, she’d go with the sure thing. And Richard was very obviously _sure_. The talk about not marrying him, that was all well and good, but it could very easily have been the claims of a woman nervous about her future. But Richard had proved himself—he’d done the impossible. Everything he did reinforced the idea that he and Kahlan were meant to be together.

And who was Cara to stand in the way of that? 

* * *

 

The inn in Turing had enough empty rooms for them each to have their own, and where they would have normally bunked together to save money, Zedd argued that they’d all earned a night without someone having to hear his snoring. His self-deprecation convinced Richard. Still, he’d shot Kahlan subtle, pleading glances up until the moment he’d set the money on the counter and took the keys from the innkeeper.

“Goodnight,” Zedd had said promptly, plucking a key from Richard’s hand and heading up the stairs. It was still early, the sun barely beginning to fade to a bright orange on the horizon, but Cara had followed slowly behind, trying to figure out the logistics of taking off her sweaty, sticky leathers one handed.

In the end she managed to only kick her boots off before dropping back against the pillows. The mattress was blessedly soft, the pillow cool against her cheek, and Cara didn’t even bother pulling the throw blanket over her body before she nodded off.

She awoke in the dark, not quite sure where she was or what had woken her up. She lay still for a moment, running her hand across the blanket, remembering. There was a quiet knock at the door. Cara rolled herself out of bed. She knew it was Kahlan standing on the other side of the door, and the thought started a happy flutter in the pit of her stomach. She opened the door. Kahlan was resting her head against the doorjamb, candle in hand.

“Hi,” Kahlan whispered.

“Hi.”

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes.” Cara bit back a laugh. “What are you wearing?”

“A nightgown.” Kahlan stepped back and spread her arms. She was wearing something that looked like a formless dress, completely white and adorned with lacy frills at the neck and sleeves. “The innkeeper gave it to me. I have one for you, too.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“Naked’s more comfortable.”

Kahlan didn’t blink. “Need help with that?”

“Probably,” Cara said honestly. She opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Are you coming in?”

Kahlan nodded, and Cara closed the door behind her. Kahlan’s free hand was on her elbow, pulling her close, and her lips ghosted over Cara’s, like she was afraid anything harder than a slight brush might hurt. Cara leaned into her. She nipped Kahlan’s bottom lip and Kahlan giggled.

“Don’t start. I really did only want to help you change.”

Cara sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re no fun.”

“And you’re tired. And hurt.” She set the candle on Cara’s nightstand then sat next to her on the bed. She pulled Cara’s uninjured arm into her lap and began unlacing the sleeve. They sat in silence, and Cara was struck by the difference in attitude from earlier in the day. Kahlan was obviously at ease, but the question of why she’d been so bristly still remained.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Kahlan asked.

“About what happened at the Pillars.” A beat. “Richard.”

Kahlan’s fingers faltered. “Not really.”

Fair enough.

“Arms up,” Kahlan instructed.

Cara looked at her.

“Lean forward, then.” Kahlan grabbed the bottom of Cara’s top and pulled it up and over, leaving her in just her dark brown breast band. Cara winced as she straightened, her ribs twingeing dully.

“I think that’s enough,” Cara said carefully when Kahlan reached for the laces of her pants. The wound on her thigh was scabbed over. A good deal of blood was congealed to her pants, and pulling them off would only start the cut bleeding again.

“Shy?” Kahlan asked teasingly.

Cara snorted. The question, even when asked in jest, didn’t deserve an answer.

Kahlan grinned. She trailed her fingers lightly along Cara’s bare stomach. Gooseflesh raised along Cara’s arms and upper body in response. Kahlan bent her head, kissing the hard bulge of Cara’s shoulder, and Cara turned to return the favor. Their lips met, and not for the first time Cara was struck by just how inconceivable it was that she, a Mord-Sith, was kissing a Confessor. And _meaning_ it. Kahlan’s hand slipped around Cara’s waist, pulling her closer, and Cara traced the firm line of Kahlan’s jaw with the pad of her thumb. Cara wasn’t sure how long they kissed—maybe a minute, maybe ten—long enough that every part of her, from her lips to the tip of her toes were tingling, but neither of them pushed for more. _More_ was somehow not right—Cara felt it just as surely as she felt Kahlan’s arm pressed into her skin. This was what Kahlan needed—what _they_ needed—and Cara realized she’d never actually kissed someone, not like this, at least, without eventually progressing to sex. There was a sweet deliciousness to it, like they had all the time in the world, that was intoxicating and soothing all at once.

“Can I stay?” Kahlan asked, her eyes closed, her lips brushing Cara’s as she whispered the words.

“Of course.”

Cara pulled the sheets back and together she and Kahlan crawled under the blankets. Kahlan sighed contentedly as she nestled herself against Cara, her hand snaking naturally around Cara’s waist again. She tucked her chin against Cara’s shoulder; she could feel the slight puff of Kahlan’s breath trailing across the skin of her chest with every exhale. She slid one foot along Kahlan’s and traced the curve of her arch, then did it again when the intimacy of the gesture made her stomach flip.

“Cara?”

“Hmm?”

“When I confessed Richard…he might love me enough to not be confessed, but that’s what _he_ feels.” Kahlan pushed herself up on one arm, hovering over Cara and looking her straight in the eye. “I’m not obligated to return the favor.”

Cara nodded. She hadn’t even realized she’d needed to hear Kahlan say just that until this very moment, but now that she’d heard it it felt like a physical weight had lifted from her chest.

Kahlan looked to be on the verge of saying more. Her gaze was intense, boring into Cara, and Cara held her breath. Then Kahlan blinked and the spell was broken. “Just so you know,” she murmured.

Cara nodded again, but that felt inadequate considering what Kahlan had told her. “Thank you,” she said finally, and Kahlan lowered herself back onto the mattress. “Why’d you do it?” Cara asked after a moment. It was something she’d been puzzling over; she couldn’t comprehend a scenario in which Kahlan would reach out and confess one of her best friends.

“I thought he was Rahl,” Kahlan said quietly. “He came up behind me, made me see things…” she broke off and buried her face in Cara’s shoulder. Cara felt wet on her skin.

“Kahlan?”

“I thought you were dead,” Kahlan said, her voice muffled and thick with tears. “I saw you…”

Cara rolled onto her side so that she and Kahlan were face to face. Tears glistened in the candlelight on Kahlan’s cheeks. Cara wiped them away gently with her thumb. “He’s an ass,” she whispered, and despite herself Kahlan let out a choked laugh. Cara grinned.

“Thank you,” Kahlan said. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and rolled onto her back, then seemed to think better of it. She rolled back and tucked herself under Cara’s chin.

Cara closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, breathing in the clean scent of Kahlan’s hair. “Any time.”

* * *

 Turing was pleasant enough. It was bright and clean and no one seemed to care who they were or where they had come from. Cara was surprised to discover that suited her just fine. It meant she could wander the streets with Kahlan without anyone watching her nervously, waiting for the Mord-Sith to snap and start trouble. It was unprecedentedly freeing. They were all relaxed, Zedd and Richard included. There was a sense that they would have to move on and return to D’Hara to check on Darken Rahl eventually, eventually being the operative word. They were none of them in a hurry. Not having a crisis to attend to would take some getting used to, but Cara was all for trying. For the first time in her life that she could remember, she was spending her days doing absolutely nothing that was conceivably worthwhile. She lay in the grass, she ate as much as Zedd, she bought frivolous things that would not fit comfortably in a rucksack, and at night Kahlan would slip into her room and they would take full advantage of having a bed to sleep in once they’d exhausted each other. Kahlan was always careful to sneak in and out well after Richard had fallen asleep and well before he woke in the morning. She was self-conscious about it, apologizing profusely to Cara for not telling him the truth yet, but Cara understood. It was one thing for Kahlan to tell Richard that she didn’t love him anymore; it was another thing to tell him about her relationship with Cara. That, Cara was sure, would only end badly for everyone, and she was just as reluctant as Kahlan to see that happen. Richard would hate her and she wasn't sure how Zedd would react, but easy money said he wouldn't be on her side. For now she was content with what they had, and in any case it was far more than she’d ever dared hope for.

Kahlan found her in the market midmorning after nearly a week in Turing. Cara grinned when she saw Kahlan approaching. Kahlan didn’t return the smile, and Cara’s slowly faded. Something was wrong. Kahlan’s brow was pinched, the scar on her upper lip standing in stark contrast to the rest of her face: a sure sign that she was upset.

Kahlan grabbed her arm just above the elbow. “Come here.” She dragged Cara out of the marketplace to a quiet patch of grass and then released her, looking distraught. She turned her back on Cara and wound her hands in her hair, pacing feverishly.

“What’s wrong?”

Kahlan turned, her hands still in her hair. “I need you to sit.”

Cara crossed her arms over her chest. “No, I won’t sit. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kahlan licked her lips nervously, her eyes flicking around the green for anyone who might be close enough to overhear. “Nothing’s wrong—”

Cara snorted, sarcasm masking the apprehension twisting in her stomach. “Clearly that’s not true.”

Kahlan was twisting her hands together. She was fidgety and nervous and it was starting to bother Cara that she couldn’t just _say_ it—

Kahlan took a quick step forward and took Cara’s hands in her own. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then let the breath out slowly through her mouth.

“I’m just going to say it,” Kahlan said, her eyes still closed. She shook her head. “I know, it’s probably stupid, but still—”

“Kahlan, just—”

“Shh.” Kahlan opened her eyes. “If you talk I’m going to chicken out, so just…shush.”

Cara closed her mouth obediently and raised an eyebrow. _Well?_ Kahlan’s hands were clammy and cold in her own. Reflexively, Cara rubbed her thumbs against Kahlan’s knuckles.

Kahlan’s eyes flickered. She swallowed once, hard, and then—

“I think I might be pregnant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.  
> See you in Part II!


End file.
